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VENDETTA! 


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itltti 


"Her  limbs  refused  to  support  her,  she  sunk  on  her  knues."— page  335. 


Vendetta  di  ^  ^  ^  And  My 

Wonderful  Wife   ^    ^    ^    ^    ^    ^ 


By 

MARIE 

CORELLI 


Author  of 
*'  Romance  of  Two  Worlds  '* 
"Soulof  Lilith" 
"  Wormwood  " 
**Thelma" 
''Ardath" 

Etc. 


NEW  YORK 

AMERICAN  PUBLISHERS 
CORPORATION 

310-318  Sixth  Avenue 


PREFACE. 


Lest  those  who  read  the  following  pages  should  deem  this 
story  at  all  improbable,  it  is  perhaps  necessary  to  say  that  its 
chief  incidents  are  founded  on  an  actual  occurrence  which  took 
place  in  Naples  during  the  last  scathing  visitation  of  the  chol- 
era in  1884.  We  know  well  enough,  by  the  chronicle  of  daily 
journalism,  that  the  infidelity  of  wives  is,  most  unhappily, 
becoming  common — far  too  common  for  the  peace  and  good 
repute  of  society.  Not  so  common  is  an  outraged  husband's 
vengeance — not  often  dares  he  take  the  law  into  his  own  hands 
— for  in  England,  at  least,  such  boldness  on  his  part  would 
doubtless  be  deemed  a  worse  crime  than  that  by  which  he 
personally  is  doomed  to  suffer.  But  in  Italy  things  are  on  a 
different  footing — the  verbosity  and  red-tape  of  the  law,  and 
the  hesitating  verdict  of  special  juries,  are  not  there  consid- 
ered sufficiently  efficacious  to  soothe  a  man's  damaged  honor 
and  ruined  name.  And  thus — whether  right  or  wrong — it 
often  happens  that  strange  and  awful  deeds  are  perpetrated — 
deeds  of  which  the  world  in  general  hears  nothing,  and  which, 
when  brought  to  light  at  last,  are  received  with  surprise  and 
incredulity.  Yet  the  romances  planned  by  the  brain  of  the 
novelist  or  dramatist  are  poor  in  comparison  with  the  romances 
of  real  life — life  wrongly  termed  commonplace,  but  which,  in 
fact,  teems  with  tragedies  as  great  and  dark  and  soul-tortur- 
ing as  any  devised  by  Sophocles  or  Shakespeare.  Nothing  is 
more  strange  than  truth— nothing,  at  times,  more  terrible ! 

Marie  Corelli. 
August,  1886. 


VENDETTA! 


CHAPTER  I. 


I,  WHO  write  this,  am  a  dead  man.  Dead  legally — dead  by 
absolute  proofs — dead  and  buried !  Ask  for  me  in  my  native 
city  and  they  will  tell  you  I  was  one  of  the  victims  of  the 
cholera  that  ravaged  Naples  in  1884,  and  that  my  mortal  re- 
mains lie  moldering  in  the  funeral  vault  of  my  ancestors. 
Yet — I  live!  I  feel  the  warm  blood  coursing  through  my 
veins — the  blood  of  thirty  summers — the  prime  of  early  man- 
hood invigorates  me,  and  makes  these  eyes  of  mine  keen  and 
bright — these  muscles  strong  as  iron — this  hand  powerful  of 
grip — this  well-knit  form  erect  and  proud  of  bearing.  Yes ! — I 
am  alive,  though  declared  to  be  dead;  alive  in  the  fulness  of 
manly  force — and  even  sorrow  has  left  few  distinguishing 
marks  upon  me,  save  one.  My  hair,  once  ebony-black,  is 
white  as  a  wreath  of  Alpine  snow,  though  its  clustering  curls 
are  thick  as  ever. 

"  A  constitutional  inheritance?"  asks  one  physician,  observ- 
ing my  frosted  locks. 

"  A  sudden  shock?"  suggests  another. 

"  Exposure  to  intense  heat?"  hints  a  third. 

I  answer  none  of  them.  I  did  so  once.  I  told  my  story  to 
a  man  I  met  by  chance — one  renowned  for  medical  skill  and 
kindliness.  He  heard  me  to  the  end  in  evident  incredulity 
and  alarm,  and  hinted  at  the  possibility  of  madness.  Since 
then  I  have  never  spoken. 

But  now  I  write.  I  am  far  from  all  persecution — I  can  set 
down  the  truth  fearlessly.  I  can  dip  the  pen  in  my  own  blood 
if  I  choose,  and  none  shall  gainsay  me !  For  the  green  silence 
of  a  vast  South  American  forest  encompasses  me — the  g^and 
and  stately  silence  of  a  virginal  nature,  almost  unbroken  by 


8  vendetta! 

the  ruthless  step  of  man's  civilization — a  haven  of  perfect 
calm,  delicately  disturbed  by  the  fluttering  wings  and  soft 
voices  of  birds,  and  the  gentle  or  stormy  murmur  of  the  free- 
born  winds  of  heaven.  Within  this  charmed  circle  of  rest  I 
(j-well — here  I  lift  up  my  overburdened  heart  like  a  brimming 
chalice,  and  empty  it  on  the  ground,  to  the  last  drop  of  gall 
contained  therein.     The  world  shall  know  my  history. 

Dead,  and  yet  living!  How  can  that  be?  you  ask.  Ah,  my 
friends!  If  you  seek  to  be  rid  of  your  dead  relations  for  a 
certainty,  you  should  have  their  bodies  cremated.  Otherwise 
there  is  no  knowing  what  may  happen !  Cremation  is  the  best 
•way — the  only  way.  It  is  clean,  and  safe.  Why  should  there 
be  any  prejudice  against  it?  Surely  it  is  better  to  give  the 
remains  of  what  we  loved  (or  pretended  to  love)  to  cleansing 
fire  and  pure  air  than  to  lay  them  in  a  cold  vault  of  stone,  or 
down,  down  in  the  wet  and  clinging  earth.  For  loathly  things 
are  hidden  deep  in  the  mold — things  foul  and  all  unnameable — 
long  worms — slimy  creatures  with  blind  eyes  and  useless 
wings — abortions  and  deformities  of  the  insect  tribe  bom  of 
poisonous  vapor — creatures  the  very  sight  of  which  would 
drive  you,  O  delicate  woman,  into  a  fit  of  hysteria,  and 
would  provoke  even  you,  O  strong  man,  to  a  shudder  of  re- 
pulsion !  But  there  is  a  worse  thing  than  these  merely  physi- 
cal horrors  which  come  of  so-called  Christian  burials — that  is, 
the  terrible  uncertainty.  What,  if  after  we  have  lowered  the 
narrow  strong  box  containing  our  dear  deceased  relation  into 
its  vault  or  hollow  in  the  ground — what,  if  after  we  have  worn 
a  seemly  garb  of  woe,  and  tortured  our  faces  into  the  fitting 
expression  of  gentle  and  patient  melancholy — what,  I  say,  if 
after  all  the  reasonable  precautions  taken  to  insure  safety, 
they  should  actually  prove  insufficient?  What  if  the  prison 
to  which  we  have  consigned  the  deeply  regretted  one  should 
not  have  such  close  doors  as  we  fondly  imagined?  What,  if  the 
stout  coffin  should  be  wrenched  apart  by  fierce  and  frenzied 
finger.s — what,  if  our  late  dear  friend  should  not  be  dead,  but 
should,  like  Lazarus  of  old,  come  forth  to  challenge  our  affec- 
tion anew?  Should  we  not  grieve  sorely  that  we  had  failed  to 
avail  ourselves  of  the  secure  and  classical  method  of  crema- 
tion? Especially  if  we  had  benefited  by  worldly  goods  or 
money  left  to  us  by  the  so  deservedly  lamented!  For  we  are 
self-deceiving  hypocrites — few  of  us  are  really  sorry  for  the 
dead — few  of  us  remember  them  with  any  real  tenderness  or 


VENDETTA !  9 

affection.     And  yet,  God  knows  I  they  may  need  more  pity 
than  we  dream  of ! 

But  let  me  to  my  task.  I,  Fabio  Romani,  lately  deceased, 
am  about  to  chronicle  the  events  of  one  short  year — a  year  in 
which  was  compressed  the  agony  of  a  long  and  tortured  life- 
time. One  little  year! — one  sharp  thrust  from  the  dagger  of 
Time !  It  pierced  my  heart — the  wound  still  gapes  and  bleeds, 
and  every  drop  of  blood  is  tainted  as  it  falls! 

One  suffering,  common  to  many,  I  have  never  known — that 
is — poverty.  I  was  born  rich.  When  my  father.  Count  Filipo 
Romani  died,  leaving  me,  then  a  lad  of  seventeen,  sole  heir  to 
his  enormous  possessions — sole  head  of  his  powerful  house — 
there  were  many  candid  friends  who,  with  their  usual  kind- 
ness, prophesied  the  worst  things  of  my  future.  Nay,  there 
were  even  some  who  looked  forward  to  my  physical  and  men- 
tal destruction  with  a  certain  degree  of  malignant  expectation 
— and  they  were  estimable  persons  too.  They  were  respect- 
ably connected — their  words  carried  weight — and  for  a  time  I 
was  an  object  of  their  maliciously  pious  fears.  I  was  destined, 
according  to  their  calculations,  to  be  a  gambler,  a  spendthrift, 
a  drunkard,  an  incurable  roud  of  the  most  abandoned  char- 
acter. Yet,  strange  to  say,  I  became  none  of  these  things. 
Though  a  Neapolitan,  with  all  the  fiery  passions  and  hot  blood 
of  my  race,  I  had  an  innate  scorn  for  the  contemptible  vices 
and  low  desires  of  the  unthinking  vulgar.  Gambling  seemed 
to  me  a  delirious  folly — drink,  a  destroyer  of  health  and 
reason — and  licentious  extravagance,  an  outrage  on  the  poor. 
I  chose  my  own  way  of  life — a  middle  course  between  sim- 
plicity and  luxury — a  judicious  mingling  of  home-like  peace 
with  the  gayety  of  sympathetic  social  intercourse — an  even 
tenor  of  intelligent  existence  which  neither  exhausted  the 
mind  nor  injured  the  body. 

I  dwelt  in  my  father's  villa — a  miniature  palace  of  white 
marble,  situated  on  a  wooded  height  overlooking  the  Bay  of 
Naples.  My  pleasure-grounds  were  fringed  with  fragrant 
groves  of  orange  and  myrtle,  where  hundreds  of  full-voiced 
nightingales  warbled  their  love-melodies  to  the  golden  moon. 
Sparkling  fountains  rose  and  fell  in  huge  stone  basins  carved 
with  many  a  quaint  design,  and  their  cool  murmurous  splash 
refreshed  the  burning  silence  of  the  hottest  summer  air.  In 
this  retreat  I  lived  at  peace  for  some  happy  years,  surrounded 
by  books  and  pictures,  and  visited  frequently  by  friends — 


10  vendetta! 

young  men  whose  tastes  were  more  or  less  like  my  own,  and 
who  were  capable  of  equally  appreciating  the  merits  of  an 
antique  volume,  or  the  flavor  of  a  rare  vintage. 

Of  women  I  saw  little  or  nothing.  Truth  to  tell,  I  instinc- 
tively avoided  them.  Parents  with  marriageable  daughters 
invited  me  frequently  to  their  houses,  but  these  invitations  I 
generally  refused.  My  best  books  warned  me  against  femi- 
nine society — and  I  believed  and  accepted  the  warning.  This 
tendency  of  mine  exposed  me  to  the  ridicule  of  those  among 
my  companions  who  were  amorously  inclined,  but  their  gay 
jests  at  what  they  termed  my  "  weakness"  never  affected  me. 
I  trusted  in  friendship  rather  than  love,  and  I  had  a  friend — • 
one  for  whom  at  that  time  I  would  gladly  have  laid  down  my 
life — one  who  inspired  me  with  the  most  profound  attachment. 
He,  Guido  Ferrari,  also  joined  occasionally  with  others  in  the 
good-natured  mockery  I  brought  down  upon  myself  by  my 
shrinking  dislike  of  women. 

"  Fy  on  thee,  Fabio !"  he  would  cry.  "  Thou  wilt  not  taste 
life  till  thou  hast  sipped  the  nectar  from  a  pair  of  rose-red  lips 
— thou  shalt  not  guess  the  riddle  of  the  stars  till  thou  hast 
gazed  deep  down  into  the  fathomless  glory  of  a  maiden's  eyes 
— thou  canst  not  know  delight  till  thou  hast  clasped  eager 
arms  round  a  coy  waist  and  heard  the  beating  of  a  passionate 
heart  against  thine  own!  A  truce  to  thy  musty  volumes! 
Believe  it,  those  ancient  and  sorrowful  philosophers  had  no 
manhood  in  them — their  blood  was  water — and  their  slanders 
against  women  were  btit  the  pettish  utterances  of  their  own 
deserved  disappointments.  Those  who  miss  the  chief  prize 
of  life  would  fain  persuade  others  that  it  is  not  worth  having. 
What,  man !  Thou,  with  a  ready  wit,  a  glancing  eye,  a  gay 
smile,  a  supple  form,  thou  wilt  not  enter  the  lists  of  love? 
What  says  Voltaire  of  the  blind  god? 

"'Qui  que  tu  sois  voila  ton  maitre, 
II  fut— il  est— ou  il  doit  etre  1'  " 

When  my  friend  spoke  thus  I  smiled,  but  answered  nothing. 
His  arguments  failed  to  convince  me.  Yet  I  loved  to  hear 
him  talk — his  voice  was  mellow  as  the  note  of  a  thrush,  and 
his  eyes  had  an  eloquence  greater  than  all  speech.  I  loved 
him — God  knows!  unselfishly,  sincerely — with  that  rare  ten- 
derness sometimes  felt  by  school-boys  for  one  another,  but 
seldom   experienced  by  grown  men.     I   was  happy  in  his 


vendetta!  ir 

society,  as  he,  indeed,  appeared  to  be  in  mine.  We  passed 
most  of  our  time  together,  he,  like  myself,  having  been  be- 
reaved of  his  parents  in  early  youth,  and  therefore  left  to 
shape  out  his  own  course  of  life  as  suited  his  particular  fancy. 
He  chose  art  as  a  profession,  and,  though  a  fairly  successful 
painter,  was  as  poor  as  I  was  rich.  I  remedied  this  neglect  of 
fortune  for  him  in  various  ways  with  due  forethought  and 
delicacy — and  gave  him  as  many  commissions  as  I  possibly 
could  without  rousing  his  suspicion  or  wounding  his  pride. 
For  he  possessed  a  strong  attraction  for  me — we  had  much  the 
same  tastes,  we  shared  the  same  sympathies — in  short,  I  de- 
sired nothing  better  than  his  confidence  and  companionship. 

In  this  world  no  one,  however  harmless,  is  allowed  to  con- 
tinue happy.  Fate — or  caprice — can  not  endure  to  see  us 
monotonously  at  rest.  Something  perfectly  trivial — a  look,  a 
word,  a  touch,  and  lo!  a  long  chain  of  old  associations  is 
broken  asunder,  and  the  peace  we  deemed  so  deep  and  lasting 
is  finally  interrupted.  This  change  came  to  me,  as  surely  as 
it  comes  to  all.  One  day — how  well  I  remember  it ! — one  sul- 
try evening  toward  the  end  of  May,  1881,  I  was  in  Naples.  I 
had  passed  the  afternoon  in  my  yacht,  idly  and  slowly  sailing 
over  the  bay,  availing  myself  of  what  little  wind  there  was. 
Guido's  absence  (he  had  gone  to  Rome  on  a  visit  of  some 
weeks'  duration)  rendered  me  somewhat  of  a  solitary,  and  as 
my  light  craft  ran  into  harbor,  I  found  myself  in  a  pensive, 
half-uncertain  mood,  which  brought  with  it  its  own  depres- 
sion. The  few  sailors  who  manned  my  vessel  dispersed  right 
and  left  as  soon  as  they  were  landed — each  to  his  own  favorite 
haunts  of  pleasure  or  dissipation — but  I  was  in  no  humor  to  be 
easily  amused.  Though  I  had  plenty  of  acquaintance  in  the 
city,  I  cared  little  for  such  entertainment  as  they  could  offer  me. 
As  I  strolled  along  through  one  of  the  principal  streets,  consid- 
ering whether  or  not  I  should  return  on  foot  to  my  own  dwell- 
ing on  the  heights,  I  heard  a  sound  of  singing,  and  perceived 
in  the  distance  a  glimmer  of  white  robes.  It  was  the  Month  of 
Mary,  and  I  at  once  concluded  that  this  must  be  an  approach- 
ing Procession  of  the  Virgin.  Half  in  idleness,  half  in  curi- 
osity, I  stood  still  and  waited.  The  singing  voices  came 
nearer  and  nearer — I  saw  the  priests,  the  acolytes,  the  swing- 
ing gold  censers  heavy  with  fragrance,  the  flaring  candles,  the 
snowy  veils  of  children  and  girls — and  then  all  suddenly  the 
picturesque  beauty  of  the  scene  danced  before  my  eyes  in  a 


12  vendetta! 

whirling  blur  of  brilliancy  and  color  from  which  looked  forth 
• — one  face !  One  face  beaming  out  like  a  star  from  a  cloud  of 
amber  tresses — one  face  of  rose-tinted,  child-like  loveliness — 
a  loveliness  absolutely  perfect,  lighted  up  by  two  luminous 
eyes,  large  and  black  as  night — one  face  in  which  the  small, 
curved  mouth  smiled  half  provokingly,  half  sweetly !  I  gazed 
and  gazed  again,  dazzled  and  excited;  beauty  makes  such 
fools  of  us  all !  This  was  a  woman — one  of  the  sex  I  mis- 
trusted and  avoided — a  woman  in  the  earliest  spring  of  her 
youth,  a  girl  of  fifteen  or  sixteen  at  the  utmost.  Her  veil  had 
been  thrown  back  by  accident  or  design,  and  for  one  brief 
moment  I  drank  in  that  soul-tempting  glance,  that  witch-like 
smile !  The  procession  passed — the  vision  faded — but  in  that 
breath  of  time  one  epoch  of  my  life  had  closed  forever,  and 
another  had  begun ! 


Of  course  I  married  her.  We  Neapolitans  lose  no  time  in 
such  matters.  We  are  not  prudent.  Unlike  the  calm  blood 
of  Englishmen,  ours  rushes  swiftly  through  our  veins — it  is 
warm  as  wine  and  sunlight,  and  needs  no  fictitious  stimulant. 
We  love,  we  desire,  we  possess;  and  then?  We  tire,  you  say? 
These  Southern  races  are  so  fickle !  All  wrong — we  are  less 
tired  than  you  deem.  And  do  not  Englishmen  tire?  Have 
they  no  secret  ennui  at  times  when  sitting  in  the  chimney 
nook  of  "home,  sweet  home,"  with  their  fat  wives  and  ever- 
spreading  families?  Truly,  yes!  But  they  are  too  cautious 
to  say  so. 

I  need  not  relate  the  story  of  my  courtship — it  was  brief  and 
sweet  as  a  song  sung  perfectly.  There  were  no  obstacles. 
The  girl  I  sought  was  the  only  daughter  of  a  ruined  Florentine 
noble  of  dissolute  character,  who  gained  a  bare  subsistence  by 
frequenting  the  gaming-tables.  His  child  had  been  brought 
up  in  a  convent  renowned  for  strict  discipline — she  knew 
nothing  of  the  world.  She  was,  he  assured  me,  with  maudlin 
tears  in  his  eyes,  "  as  innocent  as  a  flower  on  the  altar  of  the 
Madonna."  I  believed  him — for  what  could  this  lovely,  youth- 
ful, low-voiced  maiden  know  of  even  the  shadow  of  evil?  I 
was  eager  to  gather  so  fair  a  lily  for  my  own  proud  wearing — 
and  her  father  gladly  gave  her  to  me,  no  doubt  inwardly  con- 
gratulating himself  on  the  wealthy  match  that  had  fallen  to 
the  lot  of  his  dowerless  daughter. 


vendetta!  13 

We  were  married  at  the  end  of  June,  and  Guido  Ferrari 
graced  our  bridal  with  his  handsome  and  gallant  presence. 

"  By  the  body  of  Bacchus !"  he  exclaimed  to  me  when  the 
nuptial  ceremony  was  over,  "  thou  hast  profited  by  my  teach- 
ing, Fabio !  A  quiet  rogue  is  often  most  cunning !  Thou  hast 
rifled  the  casket  of  Venus,  and  stolen  her  fairest  jewel — thou 
hast  secured  the  loveliest  maiden  in  the  two  Sicilies!" 

I  pressed  his  hand,  and  a  touch  of  remorse  stole  over  me, 
for  he  was  no  longer  first  in  my  affection.  Almost  I  regretted 
it — yes,  on  my  very  wedding-morn  I  looked  back  to  the  old 
days — old  now  though  so  recent — and  sighed  to  think  they 
were  ended.  I  glanced  at  N'na,  my  wife.  It  was  enough! 
Her  beauty  dazzled  and  overcame  me.  The  melting  languor 
of  her  large  limpid  eyes  stole  into  my  veins — I  forgot  all  but 
her.  I  was  in  that  high  delirium  of  passion  in  which  love,  and 
love  only,  seems  the  key-note  of  creation.  I  touched  the 
topmost  peak  of  the  height  of  joy — the  days  were  feasts  of 
fairy-land,  the  nights  dreams  of  rapture !  No ;  I  never  tired ! 
My  wife's  beauty  never  palled  upon  me ;  she  grew  fairer  with 
each  day  of  possession.  I  never  saw  her  otherwise  than 
attractive,  and  within  a  few  months  she  had  probed  all  the 
depths  of  my  nature.  She  discovered  how  certain  sweet  looks 
of  hers  could  draw  me  to  her  side,  a  willing  and  devoted 
slave ;  she  measured  my  weakness  with  her  own  power ;  she 
knew — what  did  she  not  know?  I  torture  myself  with  these 
foolish  memories.  All  men  past  the  age  of  twenty  have 
learned  somewhat  of  the  tricks  of  women — the  pretty  playful 
nothings  that  weaken  the  will  and  sap  the  force  of  the  strongest 
hero.  She  loved  me?  Oh,  yes,  I  suppose  so!  Looking  back 
on  those  days,  I  can  frankly  say  I  believe  she  loved  me — as 
nine  hundred  wives  out  of  a  thousand  love  their  husbands, 
namely — for  what  they  can  get.  And  I  grudged  her  nothing. 
If  I  chose  to  idealize  her,  and  raise  her  to  the  stature  of  an 
angel  when  she  was  but  on  the  low  level  of  mere  womanhood, 
that  was  my  folly,  not  her  fault. 

We  kept  open  house.  Our  villa  was  a  place  of  rendezvous 
for  the  leading  members  of  the  best  society  in  and  around 
Naples.  My  wife  was  universally  admired;  her  lovely  face 
and  graceful  manners  were  themes  of  conversation  throughout 
the  whole  neighborhood.  Guido  P'errari,  my  friend,  was  one 
of  those  who  were  loudest  in  her  praise,  and  the  chivalrous 
homage  he  displayed  toward  her  doubly  endeared  him  to  me- 


14  vendetta! 

I  trusted  him  as  a  brother;  he  came  and  went  as  pleased  him; 
he  brought  Nina  gifts  of  flowers  and  fanciful  trifles  adapted  to 
her  taste,  and  treated  her  with  fraternal  and  delicate  kindness. 
I  deemed  my  happiness  perfect — with  love,  wealth,  and 
friendship,  what  more  could  a  man  desire? 

Yet  another  drop  of  honey  was  added  to  my  cup  of  sweet- 
ness. On  the  first  morning  of  May,  1882,  our  child  was  born 
— a  girl-babe,  fair  as  one  of  the  white  anemones  which  at  that 
season  grew  thickly  in  the  woods  surrounding  our  home. 
They  brought  the  little  one  to  me  in  the  shaded  veranda  where 
I  sat  at  breakfast  with  Guido — a  tiny,  almost  shapeless  bundle, 
wrapped  in  soft  cashmere  and  old  lace.  I  took  the  fragile 
thing  in  my  arms  with  a  tender  reverence ;  it  opened  its  eyes; 
they  were  large  and  dark  like  Nina's,  and  the  light  of  a  re- 
cent heaven  seemed  still  to  linger  in  their  pure  depths.  I 
kissed  the  little  face ;  Guido  did  the  same ;  and  those  clear, 
quiet  eyes  regarded  us  both  with  a  strange  half-inquiring 
solemnity.  A  bird  perched  on  a  bough  of  jasmine  broke  into 
a  low,  sweet  song ;  the  soft  wind  blew  and  scattered  the  petals 
of  a  white  rose  at  our  feet.  I  gave  the  infant  back  to  the 
nurse,  who  waited  to  receive  it,  and  said,  with  a  smile,  "  Tell 
my  wife  we  have  welcomed  her  May -blossom." 

Guido  laid  his  hand  on  my  shoulder  as  the  servant  retired; 
his  face  was  unusually  pale. 

"  Thou  art  a  good  fellow,  Fabio !"  he  said,  abruptly. 

"Indeed!  How  so?"  I  asked,  half  laughingly.  "I  am  no 
better  than  other  men." 

"You  are  less  suspicious  than  the  majority,"  he  returned, 
turning  away  from  me  and  playing  idly  with  a  spray  of  clemat- 
is that  trailed  on  one  of  the  pillars  of  the  veranda. 

I  glanced  at  him  in  surprise.  "  What  do  you  mean,  aniico  ? 
Have  I  reason  to  suspect  any  one?" 

He  laughed,  and  resumed  his  seat  at  the  breakfast-table. 

"  Why,  no !"  he  answered,  with  a  frank  look.  "  But  in 
Naples  the  air  is  pregnant  with  suspicion — jealousy's  dagger 
is  ever  ready  to  strike,  justly  or  unjustly — the  very  children 
are  learned  in  the  ways  of  vice.  Penitents  confess  to  priests 
who  are  worse  than  penitents,  and  by  Heaven !  in  such  a  state 
of  society,  where  conjugal  fidelity  is  a  farce" — he  paused  a 
moment,  and  then  went  on — "  is  it  not  wonderful  to  know  a 
man  like  you,  Fabio?  A  man  happy  in  home  affections,  with- 
out a  cloud  on  the  sky  of  his  confidence?" 


vendetta!  15 

"  I  have  no  cause  for  distrust,"  I  said.  "  Nina  is  as  innocent 
as  the  little  child  of  whom  she  is  to-day  the  mother." 

"  True  I"  exclaimed  Ferrari.  "  Perfectly  true !"  and  he 
looked  me  full  in  the  eyes,  with  a  smile.  "  White  as  the 
virgin  snow  on  the  summit  of  Mont  Blanc — purer  than  the  flaw- 
less diamond — and  unapproachable  as  the  furthest  star!  Is 
it  not  so?" 

I  assented  with  a  certain  gravity;  something  in  his  manner 
puzzled  me.  Our  conversation  soon  turned  on  different  topics, 
and  I  thought  no  more  of  the  matter.  But  a  time  came — and 
that  speedily — when  I  had  stern  reason  to  remember  every 
word  he  had  uttered. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Every  one  knows  what  kind  of  summer  we  had  in  Naples  in 
1884.  The  newspapers  of  all  lands  teemed  with  the  story  of 
its  horrors.  The  cholera  walked  abroad  like  a  destroying 
demon;  under  its  withering  touch  scores  of  people,  young  and 
old,  dropped  down  in  the  streets  to  die.  The  fell  disease, 
born  of  dirt  and  criminal  neglect  of  sanitary  precautions, 
gained  on  the  city  with  awful  rapidity,  and  worse  even  than 
the  plague  was  the  unreasoning  but  universal  panic.  The 
never-to-be-forgotten  heroism  of  King  Humbert  had  its  effect 
on  the  more  educated  classes,  but  among  the  low  Neapolitan 
populace,  abject  fear,  vulgar  superstition,  and  utter  selfishness 
reigned  supreme.  One  case  may  serve  as  an  example  of 
many  others.  A  fisherman,  well  known  in  the  place,  a  hand- 
some  and  popular  young  fellow,  was  seized,  while  working  in 
his  boat,  with  the  first  symptoms  of  cholera.  He  was  carried 
to  his  mother's  house.  The  old  woman,  a  villanous-looking 
hag,  watched  the  little  procession  as  it  approached  her  dwell- 
ing, and  taking  in  the  situation  at  once,  she  shut  and  barri- 
caded her  door. 

"  Santissima  Madonna!"  she  yelled,  shrilly,  through  a  half- 
opened  window.  "  Leave  him  in  the  street,  the  abandoned, 
miserable  one!  The  ungrateful  pig!  He  would  bring  the 
plague  to  his  own  hard-working,  honest  mother!  Holy 
Joseph!  who  would  have  children?  Leave  him  in  the  street, 
I  tell  you !" 

It  was  useless  to  expostulate  with  this  feminine  scarecrow: 


I 6  vendetta! 

her  son  was,  happily  for  himself,  unconscious,  and  after  some 
more  wrangling  he  was  laid  down  on  her  doorstep,  where  he 
shortly  afterward  expired,  his  body  being  afterward  carted 
away  like  so  much  rubbish  by  the  becca7norti. 

The  heat  in  the  city  was  intense.  The  sky  was  a  burning 
dome  of  brilliancy,  the  bay  was  still  as  a  glittering  sheet  of 
glass.  A  thin  column  of  smoke  issuing  from  the  crater  of 
Vesuvius  increased  the  impression  of  an  all-pervading  though 
imperceptible  ring  of  fire,  that  seemed  to  surround  the  place. 
No  birds  sung  save  in  the  late  evening,  when  the  nightingales 
in  my  gardens  broke  out  in  a  bubbling  torrent  of  melody,  half 
joyous,  half  melancholy.  Upon  that  wooded  height  where  I 
dwelt  it  was  comparatively  cool.  I  took  all  precautions  neces- 
sary to  prevent  the  contagion  from  attacking  our  household ; 
in  fact,  I  would  have  left  the  neighborhood  altogether  had  I 
not  known  that  hasty  flight  from  an  infected  district  often 
carries  with  it  the  possibility  of  closer  contact  with  the  dis- 
ease. My  wife,  besides,  was  not  nervous — I  think  very  beau- 
tiful women  seldom  are.  Their  superb  vanity  is  an  excellent 
shield  to  repel  pestilence ;  it  does  away  with  the  principal 
element  of  danger — fear.  As  for  our  Stella,  a  toddling  mite 
of  two  years  old,  she  was  a  healthy  child,  for  whom  neither 
her  mother  nor  myself  entertained  the  least  anxiety. 

Guido  Ferrari  came  and  stayed  with  us,  and  while  the 
cholera,  like  a  sharp  scythe  put  into  a  field  of  ripe  corn,  mowed 
down  the  dirt-loving  Neapolitans  by  hundreds,  we  three,  with 
a  small  retinue  of  servants,  none  of  whom  were  ever  permitted 
to  visit  the  city,  lived  on  farinaceous  food  and  distilled  water, 
bathed  regularly,  rose  and  retired  early,  and  enjoyed  the  most 

I  perfect  health. 

I  Among  her  many  other  attractions  my  wife  was  gifted  with 
a  beautiful  and  well-trained  voice.  She  sung  with  exquisite 
expression,  and  many  an  evening  when  Guido  and  myself  sat 
smoking  in  the  garden,  after  little  Stella  had  gono  to  bed, 
Nina  would  ravish  our  ears  with  the  music  of  her  nightingale 
notes,  singing  song  after  song,  quaint  stornelli  and  ritornelli — 
songs  of  the  people,  full  of  wild  and  passionate  beauty.  In 
these  Guido  would  often  join  her,  his  full  barytone  chiming 
in  with  her  delicate  and  clear  soprano  as  deliciously  as  the 
fall  of  a  fountain  with  the  trill  of  a  bird.  I  can  hear  those  two 
voices  now;  their  united  melody  still  rings  mockingly  in  my 
ears;    the  heavy  perfume  of  orange-blossoms,  mingled  with 


VENDETTA !  1 7 

myrtle,  floats  toward  me  on  the  air;  the  yellow  moon  burns 
round  and  full  in  the  dense  blue  sky,  like  the  King  of  Thule's 
goblet  of  gold  flung  into  a  deep  sea;  and  again  I  behold  those 
two  heads  leaning  together,  the  one  fair,  the  other  dark ;  my 
wife,  my  friend — those  two  whose  lives  were  a  million  times 
dearer  to  me  than  my  own.  Ah !  they  were  happy  days — days 
of  self-delusion  always  are.  We  are  never  grateful  enough  to 
the  candid  persons  who  wake  us  from  our  dreams — yet  such 
are  in  truth  our  best  friends,  could  we  but  realize  it. 

August  was  the  most  terrible  of  all  the  summer  months  in 
Naples.  The  cholera  increased  with  frightful  steadiness,  and 
the  people  seemed  to  be  literally  mad  with  terror.  Some  of 
them,  seized  with  a  wild  spirit  of  defiance,  plunged  into  orgies 
of  vice  and  intemperance  with  a  reckless  disregard  of  conse- 
quences. One  of  these  frantic  revels  took  place  at  a  well- 
known  cafe.  Eight  young  men,  accompanied  by  eight  girls 
of  remarkable  beauty,  arrived,  and  ordered  a  private  room, 
where  they  were  served  with  a  sumptuous  repast.  At  its 
close  one  of  the  party  raised  his  glass  and  proposed,  "  Success 
to  the  cholera!"  The  toast  was  received  with  riotous  shouts 
of  applause,  and  all  drank  it  with  delirious  laughter.  That 
very  night  every  one  of  the  revellers  died  in  horrible  agony; 
their  bodies,  as  usual,  were  thrust  into  flimsy  cofiins  and 
buried  one  on  top  of  another  in  a  hole  hastily  dug  for  the  pur- 
pose. Dismal  stories  like  these  reached  us  every  day,  but  we 
were  not  morbidly  impressed  by  them.  Stella  was  a  living 
charm  against  pestilence ;  her  innocent  playfulness  and  prattle 
kept  us  amused  and  employed,  and  surrounded  us  with  an 
atmosphere  that  was  physically  and  mentally  wholesome. 

One  morning — one  of  the  very  hottest  mornings  of  that 
scorching  month — I  woke  at  an  earlier  hour  than  usual.  A 
suggestion  of  possible  coolness  in  the  air  tempted  me  to  rise 
and  stroll  through  the  garden.  My  wife  slept  soundly  at  my 
side.  I  dressed  softly,  without  disturbing  her.  As  I  was 
about  to  leave  the  room  some  instinct  made  me  turn  back  to 
look  at  her  once  more.  How  lovely  she  was!  She  smiled  in 
her  sleep!  My  heart  beat  as  I  gazed — she  had  been  mine  for 
three  years — mine  only ! — and  my  passionate  admiration  and 
love  of  her  had  increased  in  proportion  to  that  length  of  time, 
I  raised  one  of  the  scattered  golden  locks  that  lay  shining  like 
a  sunbeam  on  the  pillow,  and  kissed  it  tenderly.  Then — all 
unconscious  of  my  fate — I  left  her. 


1 8  vendetta! 

A  faint  breeze  greeted  me  as  I  sauntered  slowly  along  the 
garden  walks — a  breath  of  wind  scarce  strong  enough  to  flutter 
the  leaves,  yet  it  had  a  salt  savor  in  it  that  was  refreshing 
after  the  tropical  heat  of  the  past  night.  I  was  at  that  time 
absorbed  in  the  study  of  Plato,  and  as  I  walked,  my  mind  oc- 
cupied itself  with  many  high  problems  and  deep  questions 
suggested  by  that  great  teacher.  Lost  in  a  train  of  profound 
yet  pleasant  thought,  I  strayed  on  further  than  I  intended,  and 
found  myself  at  last  in  a  by-path,  long  disused  by  our  house* 
hold — a  winding  footway  leading  downward  in  the  direction 
of  the  harbor.  It  was  shady  and  cool,  and  I  followed  the  road 
almost  unconsciously  till  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  masts  and 
white  sails  gleaming  through  the  leafage  of  the  overarching 
trees.  I  was  then  about  to  retrace  my  steps,  when  I  was 
startled  by  a  sudden  sound.  It  was  a  low  moan  of  intense 
pain — a  smothered  cry  that  seemed  to  be  wrung  from  some 
animal  in  torture.  I  turned  in  the  direction  whence  it  came, 
and  saw,  lying  face  downward  on  the  grass,  a  boy — a  little 
fruit-seller  of  eleven  or  twelve  years  of  age.  His  basket  of 
wares  stood  beside  him,  a  tempting  pile  of  peaches,  grapes, 
pomegranates  and  melons — lovely  but  dangerous  eating  in 
cholera  times.     I  touched  the  lad  on  the  shoulder. 

"  What  ails  you?"  I  asked.  He  twisted  himself  convulsively 
and  turned  his  face  toward  me — a  beautiful  face,  though  livid 
with  anguish. 

"The  plague,  signor!"  he  moaned;  "the  plague!  Keep 
away  from  me,  for  the  love  of  God !     I  am  dying !" 

I  hesitated.  For  myself  I  had  no  fear.  But  my  wife — my 
child — for  their  sakes  it  was  necessary  to  be  prudent.  Yet  I 
could  not  leave  this  poor  boy  unassisted.  I  resolved  to  go 
to  the  harbor  in  search  of  medical  aid.  With  this  idea  in  my 
mind  I  spoke  cheerfully. 

"  Courage,  my  boy,"  I  said;  "  do  not  lose  heart!  All  illness 
is  not  the  plague.  Rest  here  till  I  return ;  I  am  going  to  fetch 
a  doctor." 

The  little  fellow  looked  at  me  with  wondering,  pathetic 
eyes,  and  tried  to  smile.  He  pointed  to  his  throat,  and  made 
an  effort  to  speak,  but  vainly.  Then  he  crouched  down  in  the 
grass  and  writhed  in  torture  like  a  hunted  animal  wounded  to 
the  death.  I  left  him  and  walked  on  rapidly ;  reaching  the 
harbor,  where  the  heat  was  sulphurous  and  intense,  I  found  a 
few  scared-looking  men  standing  aimlessly  about,  to  whom  I 


VENDETTA?  I 9 

explained  the  boy's  case,  and  appealed  for  assistance.  They 
all  hung  back — none  of  them  would  accompany  me,  not  even 
for  the  gold  I  offered.  Cursing  their  cowardice,  I  hurried  on 
in  search  of  a  physician,  and  found  one  at  last,  a  sallow 
Frenchman,  who  listened  with  obvious  reluctance  to  my  ac- 
count of  the  condition  in  which  I  had  left  the  little  fruit-seller, 
and  at  the  end  shook  his  head  decisively,  and  refused  to 
move. 

"  He  is  as  good  as  dead,"  he  observed,  with  cold  brevity. 
"Better  call  at  the  house  of  the  Miserecordia;  the  brethren 
will  fetch  his  body." 

"What!"  I  cried:   "you  will  not  try  if  you  can  save  him?" 

The  Frenchman  bowed  with  satirical  suavity. 

"  Monsieur  must  pardon  me !  My  own  health  would  be 
seriously  endangered  by  touching  a  cholera  corpse.  Allow 
me  to  wish  monsieur  the  good-day !" 

And  he  disappeared,  shutting  his  door  in  my  face.  I  was 
thoroughly  exasperated,  and  though  the  heat  and  the  fetid 
odor  of  the  sun-baked  streets  made  me  feel  faint  and  sick,  I 
forgot  all  danger  for  myself  as  I  stood  in  the  plague-stricken 
city,  wondering  what  I  should  do  next  to  obtain  succor.  A 
grave,  kind  voice  saluted  my  ear. 

"  You  seek  aid,  my  son?" 

I  looked  up.  A  tall  monk,  whose  cowl  partly  concealed  his 
pale  but  resolute  features,  stood  at  my  side — one  of  those 
heroes  who,  for  the  love  of  Christ,  came  forth  at  that  terrible 
time  and  faced  the  pestilence  fearlessly,  where  the  blatant 
boasters  of  no-religion  scurried  away  like  frightened  hares 
from  the  very  scent  of  danger.  I  greeted  him  with  an  obeis* 
ance,  and  explained  my  errand. 

"I  will  go  at  once,"  he  said,  with  an  accent  of  pity  in  his 
voice.  "  But  I  fear  the  worst.  I  have  remedies  with  me ;  I 
may  not  be  too  late." 

"  I  will  accompany  you,"  I  said,  eagerl)'.  "  One  would  not 
let  a  dog  die  unaided;  much  less  this  poor  lad,  who  seems 
friendless." 

The  monk  looked  at  me  attentively  as  we  walked  on 
together. 

"  You  are  not  residing  in  Naples?"  he  asked. 

I  gave  him  my  name,  which  he  knew  by  repute,  and  de- 
scribed the  position  of  my  villa. 

"  Up  on  that  height  we  enjoy  perfect  health,"  I  added.     "  I 


20  vendetta! 

can  not  understand  the  panic  that  prevails  in  the  city.  The 
plague  is  fostered  by  such  cowardice." 

"  Of  course !"  he  answered,  calmly.  "  But  what  will  you? 
The  people  here  love  pleasure.  Their  hearts  are  set  solely  on 
this  life.  When  death,  common  to  all,  enters  their  midst, 
they  are  like  babes  scared  by  a  dark  shadow.  Religion  itself" 
— here  he  sighed  deeply — "  has  no  hold  upon  them." 

"  But  you,  my  father,"  I  began,  and  stopped  abruptly,  con- 
scious of  a  sharp  throbbing  pain  in  my  temples. 

"  I,"  he  answered,  gravely,  "  am  the  servant  of  Christ.  As 
such,  the  plague  has  no  terrors  for  me.  Unworthy  as  I  am, 
for  ray  Master's  sake  I  am  ready — nay,  willing — to  face  all 
deaths." 

He  spoke  firmly,  yet  without  arrogance.  I  looked  at  him  in 
a  certain  admiration,  and  was  about  to  speak,  when  a  curious 
dizziness  overcame  me,  and  I  caught  at  his  arm  to  save  myself 
from  falling.  The  street  rocked  like  a  ship  at  sea,  and  the 
skies  whirled  round  me  in  circles  of  blue  fire.  The  feeling 
slowly  passed,  and  I  heard  the  monk's  voice,  as  though  it 
were  a  long  way  off,  asking  me  anxiously  what  was  the  mat- 
ter.    I  forced  a  smile. 

"  It  is  the  heat,  I  think,"  I  said,  in  feeble  tones  like  those  of 
a  very  aged  man.  "  I  am  faint — giddy.  You  had  best  leave 
me  here — see  to  the  boy.     Oh,  my  God!" 

This  last  exclamation  was  wrung  out  of  me  by  sheer  an- 
guish. My  limbs  refused  to  support  me,  and  a  pang,  cold  and 
bitter  as  though  naked  steel  had  been  thrust  through  my  body, 
caused  me  to  sink  down  upon  the  pavement  in  a  kind  of  con- 
vulsion. The  tall  and  sinewy  monk,  without  a  moment's 
hesitation,  dragged  me  up  and  half  carried,  half  led  me  into  a 
kind  of  atiberge,  or  restaurant  for  the  poorer  classes.  Here  he 
placed  me  in  a  recumbent  position  on  one  of  the  wooden 
benches,  and  called  up  the  proprietor  of  the  place,  a  man  to 
whom  he  seemed  to  be  well  known.  Though  suffering 
acutely  I  was  conscious,  and  could  hear  and  see  everything 
that  passed. 

"  Attend  to  him  well,  Pietro — it  is  the  rich  Count  Fabio 
Romani.  Thou  wilt  not  lose  by  thy  pains.  I  will  return 
within  an  hour." 

"The  Count  Romani!  Santissima  Madonna!  He  has 
caught  the  plague !" 

"  Thou  fool !"  exclaimed  the  monk,  fiercely.     "  How  canst 


VENDETTA !  2  X 

thou  tell?  A  stroke  of  the  sun  is  not  the  plague,  thou  coward! 
See  to  him,  or  by  St.  Peter  and  the  keys  there  shall  be  no 
place  for  thee  in  heaven !" 

The  trembling  innkeeper  looked  terrified  at  this  menace, 
and  submissively  approached  me  with  pillows,  which  he 
placed  under  my  head.  The  monk,  meanwhile,  held  a  glass 
to  my  lips  containing  some  medicinal  mixture,  which  I  swal- 
lowed mechanically.  j 

"Rest  here,  my  son,"  he  said,  addressing  me  in  soothing 
tones.  "  These  people  are  good-natured.  I  will  but  hasten  to 
the  boy  for  whom  you  sought  assistance — in  less  than  an  hour 
I  will  be  with  you  again," 

I  laid  a  detaining  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  Stay,"  I  murmured,  feebly,  "  let  me  know  the  worst.  Is 
this  the  plague?" 

"I  hope  not!"  he  replied,  compassionately.  "But  what  if 
it  be?  You  are  young  and  strong  enough  to  fight  against  it 
without  fear." 

"  I  have  no  fear,"  I  said.  "  But,  father,  promise  me  one 
thing — send  no  word  of  my  illness  to  my  wife — swear  it! 
Even  if  I  am  unconscious — dead — swear  that  I  shall  not  be 
taken  to  the  villa.  Swear  it!  I  cannot  rest  till  I  have  your 
word." 

"  I  swear  it  most  willingly,  my  son,"  he  answered,  solemnly. 
"  By  all  I  hold  sacred,  I  will  respect  your  wishes." 

I  was  infinitely  relieved — the  safety  of  those  I  loved  was 
assured — and  I  thanked  him  by  a  mute  gesture.  I  was  too 
weak  to  say  more.  He  disappeared,  and  my  brain  wandered 
into  a  chaos  of  strange  fancies.  Let  me  try  to  revolve  these 
delusions.  I  plainly  see  the  interior  of  the  common  room 
where  I  lie.  There  is  the  timid  innkeeper — he  polishes  his 
glasses  and  bottles,  casting  ever  and  anon  a  scared  glance  in 
my  direction.  Groups  of  men  look  in  at  the  door,  and,  seeing 
me,  hurry  away.  I  observe  all  this — I  know  where  I  am — yet 
I  am  also  climbing  the  steep  passes  of  an  Alpine  gorge — the 
cold  snow  is  at  my  feet — I  hear  the  rush  and  roar  of  a  thou- 
sand torrents.  A  crimson  cloud  floats  above  the  summit  of  a 
white  glacier — it  parts  asunder  gradually,  and  in  its  bright 
centre  a  face  smiles  forth!  "Nina!  my  love,  my  wife,  my 
soul!"  I  cry  aloud.  I  stretch  out  my  arms — I  clasp  her! — bah! 
it  is  this  good  rogue  of  an  innkeeper  who  holds  me  in  his 
musty  embrace !    I  struggle  with  him  fiercely — pantingly. 


23  vendetta! 

"  Fool !"  I  shriek  in  his  ear.  "  Let  me  go  to  her— her  lips 
pout  for  kisses — let  me  go!" 

Another  man  advances  and  seizes  me ;  he  and  the  innkeeper 
force  me  back  on  the  pillows — they  overcome  me,  and  the 
utter  incapacity  of  a  terrible  exhaustion  steals  away  my 
strength.  I  cease  to  struggle.  Pietro  and  his  assistant  look 
down  upon  me. 

"  E  morto!  "  they  whisper  one  to  the  other. 

I  hear  them  and  smile.  Dead?  Not  I!  The  scorching 
sunlight  streams  through  the  open  door  of  the  inn— the  thirsty 
flies  buzz  with  persistent  loudness — some  voices  are  singing 
"  La  Fata  di  Amalfi" — I  can  distinguish  the  words — 

"Chiagnaro  la  mia  sventura 
Si  non  tuorne  chiu,  Rosella! 
Tu  d'Amalfi  la  chiii  bella, 
Tu  na  Fata  si  pe  me ! 
Viene,  vie,  regina  mia, 
Viene  curre  a  chisto  core, 
Ca  non  c'e  non  c'e  no  sciore 
Non  c'e  stella  comm'  a  te  ! "  * 

That  is  a  true  song,  JVi'na  mia!  "  Non  c'h  stella  comm'  a  te!" 
What  did  Guido  say?  "  Purer  than  the  flawless  diamond — 
unapproachable  as  the  furthest  star !"  That  foolish  Pietro  still 
polishes  his  wine  bottles.  I  see  him — his  meek  round  face  is 
greasy  with  heat  and  dust ;  but  I  can  not  understand  how  he 
comes  to  be  here  at  all,  for  I  am  on  the  banks  of  a  tropical 
river  where  huge  palms  grow  wild,  and  drowsy  alligators  lie 
asleep  in  the  sun.  Their  large  jaws  are  open — their  small 
eyes  glitter  greenly.  A  light  boat  glides  over  the  silent 
water — in  it  I  behold  the  erect  lithe  figure  of  an  Indian.  His 
features  are  strangely  similar  to  those  of  Guido.  He  draws  a 
long  thin  shining  blade  of  steel  as  he  approaches.  Brave  fel- 
low!— he  means  to  attack  single-handed  the  cruel  creatures 
who  lie  in  wait  for  him  on  the  sultry  shore.  He  springs  to 
land — I  watch  him  with  a  weird  fascination.  He  passes  the 
alligators — he  seems  not  to  be  aware  of  their  presence — he 
comes  with  swift,  unhesitating  step  to  me — it  is  /  whom  he 
seeks — it  is  in  my  heart  that  he  plunges  the  cold  steel  dagger, 
and  draws  it  out  again  dripping  with  blood!  Once — twice — 
thrice ! — and  yet  I  can  not  die !     I  writhe — I  moan  in  bitter 

*  A  popular  song  in  the  Neapolitan  dialect. 


vendetta!  23 

anguish !  Then  something  dark  comes  between  me  and  the 
glaring  sun — something  cool  and  shadowy,  against  which  I  fling 
myself  despairingly.  Two  dark  eyes  look  steadily  into  mine, 
and  a  voice  speaks : 

"Be  calm,  my  son,  be  calm.  Commend  thyself  to  Christ!" 
It  is  my  friend  the  monk.  I  recognize  him  gladly.  He  has 
returned  from  his  errand  of  mercy.  Though  I  can  scarcely 
speak,  I  hear  myself  asking  for  news  of  the  boy.  The  holy 
man  crosses  himself  devoutly. 

"  May  his  young  soul  rest  in  peace !      I  found  him  dead." 

I  am  dreamily  astonished  at  this.  Dead  so  soon?  I  cannot 
understand  it ;  and  I  drift  off  again  into  a  state  of  confused 
imaginings.  As  I  look  back  now  to  that  time,  I  find  I  have  no 
specially  distinct  recollection  of  what  afterward  happened  to 
me.  I  know  I  suffered  intense,  intolerable  pain,  that  I  was 
literally  tortured  on  a  rack  of  excruciating  anguish,  and  that 
through  all  the  delirium  of  my  senses  I  heard  a  muffled, 
melancholy  sound  like  a  chant  or  prayer.  I  have  an  idea  that 
I  also  heard  the  tinkle  of  the  bell  that  accompanies  the  Host, 
but  my  brain  reeled  more  wildly  with  each  moment,  and  I  can- 
not be  certain  of  this.  I  remember  shrieking  out  after  what 
seemed  an  eternity  of  pain,  "Not  to  the  villa!  no,  no,  not 
there !  You  shall  not  take  me — my  citrse  on  him  who  disobeys 
me!" 

I  remember  then  a  fearful  sensation,  as  of  being  dragged 
into  a  deep  whirlpool,  from  whence  I  stretched  up  appealing 
hands  and  eyes  to  the  monk  who  stood  above  me — I  caught  a 
drowning  glimpse  of  a  silver  crucifix  glittering  before  my 
gaze,  and  at  last,  with  one  loud  cry  for  help,  I  sank — down — 
down !  into  an  abyss  of  black  night  and  nothingness ! 


CHAPTER  m. 

There  followed  a  long  drowsy  time  of  stillness  and  shadow. 
I  seemed  to  have  fallen  in  some  deep  well  of  delicious  oblivion 
and  obscurity.  Dream-like  images  still  flitted  before  my 
fancy — these  were  at  first  undefinable,  but  after  a  while  they 
took  more  certain  shapes.  Strange  fluttering  creatures  hov- 
ered about  me — lonely  eyes  stared  at  me  from  a  visible  deep 
gloom;  long  white  bony  fingers  grasping  at  nothing  made 


24  vendetta! 

signs  to  me  of  warning  or  menace.  Then — very  gradually, 
there  dawned  upon  my  sense  of  vision  a  cloudy  red  mist  like 
a  stormy  sunset,  and  from  the  middle  of  the  blood-like  haze  a 
huge  black  hand  descended  toward  me.  It  pounced  upon  my 
chest — it  grasped  my  throat  in  its  monstrous  clutch,  and  held 
me  down  with  a  weight  of  iron.  I  struggled  violently — I 
strove  to  cry  out,  but  that  terrific  pressure  took  from  me  all 
power  of  utterance,  I  twisted  myself  to  right  and  left  in  an 
endeavor  to  escape — but  my  tyrant  of  the  sable  hand  had 
bound  me  in  on  all  sides.  Yet  I  continued  to  wrestle  with  the 
cruel  opposing  force  that  strove  to  overwhelm  me — little  by 
little — inch  by  inch — so!  At  last!  One  more  struggle — 
victory!  I  woke!  Merciful  God!  Where  was  I?  In  what 
horrible  atmosphere — in  what  dense  darkness?  Slowly,  as 
my  senses  returned  to  me,  I  remembered  my  recent  illness. 
The  monk — the  man  Pietro — where  were  theyl  What  had  they 
done  to  me?  By  degrees,  I  realized  that  I  was  lying  straight 
down  upon  my  back — the  couch  was  surely  very  hard !  Why 
had  they  taken  the  pillows  from  under  my  head?  A  pricking 
sensation  darted  through  my  veins — I  felt  my  own  hands 
curiously — they  were  warm,  and  my  pulse  beat  strongly, 
though  fitfully.  But  what  was  this  that  hindered  my  breath- 
ing? Air — air !  I  must  have  air !  I  put  up  my  hands — hor- 
ror !  They  struck  against  a  hard  opposing  substance  above 
me.  Quick  as  lightning  then  the  truth  flashed  upon  my 
mind !  I  had  been  buried — buried  alive ;  this  wooden  prison 
that  inclosed  me  was  a  coffin !  A  frenzy  surpassing  that  of 
an  infuriated  tiger  took  swift  possession  of  me — with  hands 
and  nails  I  tore  and  scratched  at  the  accursed  boards — with  all 
the  force  of  my  shoulders  and  arms  I  toiled  to  wrench  open 
the  closed  lid!  My  efforts  were  fruitless !  I  grew  more  fero- 
ciously mad  with  rage  and  terror.  How  easy  were  all  deaths 
compared  to  one  like  this !  I  was  suffocating — I  felt  my  eyes 
start  from  their  sockets — blood  sprung  from  my  mouth  and 
nostrils — and  icy  drops  of  sweat  trickled  from  my  forehead. 
I  paused,  gasping  for  breath.  Then,  suddenly  nerving  myself 
for  one  more  wild  effort,  I  hurled  my  limbs  with  all  the  force 
of  agony  and  desperation  against  one  side  of  ray  narrow 
prison.  It  cracked — it  split  asunder! — and  then — a  new  and 
horrid  fear  beset  me,  and  I  crouched  back,  panting  heavily. 
If — if  I  were  buried  in  the  ground — so  ran  my  ghastly  thoughts 
— of  what  use  to  break  open  the  coffin  and  let  in  the  mold — tb© 


vendetta!  25 

damp  wormy  mold,  rich  with  the  bones  of  the  dead — the  pene- 
trating mold  that  would  choke  up  my  mouth  and  eyes,  and 
seal  me  into  silence  forever !  My  mind  quailed  at  this  idea — 
my  brain  tottered  on  the  verge  of  madness!  I  laughed — think 
of  it ! — and  my  laugh  sounded  in  my  ears  like  the  last  rattle 
in  the  throat  of  a  dying  man.  But  I  could  breathe  more  easily 
— even  in  the  stupefaction  of  my  fears  I  was  conscious  of  air. 
Yes! — the  blessed  air  had  rushed  in  somehow.  Revived  and 
encouraged  as  I  recognized  this  fact,  I  felt  with  both  hands 
till  I  found  the  crevice  I  had  made,  and  then  with  frantic  haste 
and  strength  I  pulled  and  dragged  at  the  wood,  till  suddenly 
the  whole  side  of  the  cofiin  gave  way,  and  I  was  able  to  force 
up  the  lid.  I  stretched  out  my  arms — no  weight  of  earth  im- 
peded their  movements — I  felt  nothing  but  air — empty  air. 
Yielding  to  my  first  strong  impulse,  I  leaped  out  of  the  hate- 
ful box,  and  fell — fell  some  little  distance,  bruising  my  hands 
and  knees  on  what  seemed  to  be  a  stone  pavement.  Some- 
thing weighty  fell  also,  with  a  dull  crashing  thud,  close  to  me. 
The  darkness  was  impenetrable.  But  there  was  breathing 
room,  and  the  atmosphere  was  cool,  and  refreshing.  With 
some  pain  and  difficulty  I  raised  myself  to  a  sitting  position 
where  I  had  fallen.  My  limbs  were  stiff  and  cramped  as  well 
as  wounded,  and  I  shivered  as  with  strong  ague.  But  my 
senses  were  clear — the  tangled  chain  of  my  disordered 
thoughts  became  even  and  connected — my  previous  mad  ex- 
citement gradually  calmed,  and  I  began  to  consider  my  con- 
dition. I  had  certainly  been  buried  alive — there  was  no  doubt 
of  that.  Intense  pain  had,  I  suppose,  resolved  itself  into  a 
long  trance  of  unconsciousness — the  people  of  the  inn  where  I 
had  been  taken  ill  had  at  once  believed  me  to  be  dead  of 
cholera,  and  with  the  panic-stricken,  indecent  haste  common 
in  all  Italy,  especially  at  a  time  of  plague,  had  thrust  me  into 
one  of  those  flimsy  coffins  which  were  then  being  manufac- 
tured by  scores  in  Naples — mere  shells  of  thin  deal,  nailed 
together  with  clumsy  hurry  and  fear.  But  how  I  blessed  their 
wretched  construction !  Had  I  been  laid  in  a  stronger  casket, 
who  knows  if  even  the  most  desperate  frenzy  of  my  strength 
might  not  have  proved  unavailing!  I  shuddered  at  the 
thought.  Yet  the  question  remained — Where  was  I?  I  re- 
viewed my  case  from  all  points,  and  for  some  time  could 
arrive  at  no  satisfactory  conclusion.  Stay,  though!  I  re- 
membered that  I  had  told  the  monk  my  name ;  he  knew  that  I 


26  vendetta! 

was  the  only  descendant  of  the  rich  Romani  family.  What 
followed?  Why,  naturally,  the  good  father  had  only  done 
what  his  duty  called  upon  him  to  do.  He  had  seen  me  laid  in 
the  vault  of  my  ancestors — the  great  Romani  vault  that  had 
never  been  opened  since  my  father's  body  was  carried  to  its 
last  resting-place  with  all  the  solemn  pomp  and  magnificence 
of  a  wealthy  nobleman's  funeral  obsequies.  The  more  I 
thought  of  this  the  more  probable  it  seemed.  The  Romani 
vault!  Its  forbidding  gloom  had  terrified  me  as  a  lad  when  I 
followed  my  father's  coffin  to  the  stone  niche  assigned  to  it, 
and  I  had  turned  my  eyes  away  in  shuddering  pain  when  I  was 
told  to  look  at  the  heavy  oaken  casket,  hung  with  tattered  vel- 
vet and  ornamented  with  tarnished  silver,  which  contained  all 
that  was  left  of  my  mother,  who  died  young.  I  had  felt  sick 
and  faint  and  cold,  and  had  only  recovered  myself  when  I 
stood  out  again  in  the  free  air  with  the  blue  dome  of  heaven 
high  above  me.  And  now  I  was  shut  in  the  same  vault — a 
prisoner — with  what  hope  of  escape?  I  reflected.  The  en- 
trance to  the  vault,  I  remembered,  was  barred  by  a  heavy  door 
of  closely  twisted  iron — thence  a  flight  of  steep  steps  led 
downward — downward  to  where  in  all  probability  I  now  was. 
Suppose  I  could  in  the  dense  darkness  feel  my  way  to  those 
steps  and  climb  up  to  that  door — of  what  avail?  It  was  locked 
— nay,  barred, — and  as  it  was  situated  in  a  remote  part  of  the 
burial-ground,  there  was  no  likelihood  of  even  the  keeper  of 
the  cemetery  passing  by  it  for  days — perhaps  not  for  weeks. 
Then  must  I  starve?  Or  die  of  thirst?  Tortured  by  these 
imaginings,  I  rose  up  from  the  pavement  and  stood  erect.  My 
feet  were  bare,  and  the  cold  stone  on  which  I  stood  chilled  me 
to  the  marrow.  It  was  fortunate  for  me,  I  thought,  that  they 
had  buried  me  as  a  cholera  corpse — they  had  left  me  half- 
clothed  for  fear  of  infection.  That  is,  I  had  my  flannel  shirt 
on  and  my  usual  walking  trousers.  Something  there  was, 
too,  round  my  neck;  I  felt  it,  and  as  I  did  so  a  flood  of  sweet 
and  sorrowful  memories  rushed  over  me.  It  was  a  slight  gold 
chain,  and  on  it  hung  a  locket  containing  the  portraits  of  my 
wife  and  child.  I  drew  it  out  in  the  darkness;  I  covered  it 
with  passionate  kisses  and  tears — the  first  I  had  shed  since  my 
death-like  trance — tears  scalding  and  bitter  welled  into  my 
eyes.  Life  was  worth  living  while  Nina's  smile  lightened  the 
world !  I  resolved  to  fight  for  existence,  no  matter  what  dire 
horrors  should  be  yet  in  store  for  me.     Nina — my  love — my 


vendetta!  27 

beautiful  one .'  Ilcr  face  gleamed  out'upon  me  in  the  pestilent 
gloom  of  the  charnel-house ;  her  eyes  beckoned  me — her 
young  faithful  eyes  that  were  now,  I  felt  sure,  drowned  in 
weeping  for  my  supposed  death.  I  seemed  to  see  my  tender- 
hearted darling  sobbing  alone  in  the  empty  silence  of  the  room 
that  had  witnessed  a  thousand  embraces  between  herself  and 
me ;  her  lovely  hair  disheveled ;  her  sweet  face  pale  and  hag- 
gard with  the  bitterness  of  grief!  Baby  Stella,  too,  no  doubt 
she  would  wonder,  poor  innocent!  why  I  did  not  come  to 
swing  her  as  usual  under  the  orange  boughs.  And  Guido — 
brave  and  true  friend !  I  thought  of  him  with  tenderness.  I 
felt  I  knew  how  deep  and  lasting  would  be  his  honest  regret 
for  my  loss.  Oh,  I  would  leave  no  means  of  escape  untried; 
I  would  find  some  way  out  of  this  grim  vault !  How  overjoyed 
they  would  all  be  to  see  me  again — to  know  that  I  was 
not  dead  after  all !  What  a  welcome  I  should  receive !  How 
Nina  would  nestle  into  my  arms;  how  my  little  child  would 
cling  to  me;  how  Guido  would  clasp  me  by  the  hand!  I 
smiled  as  I  pictured  the  scene  of  rejoicing  at  the  dear  old  villa 
— the  happy  home  sanctified  by  perfect  friendship  and  faith- 
ful love ! 

A  deep  hollow  sound  booming  suddenly  on  my  ears  startled 
me — one!  two!  three!  I  counted  the  strokes  up  to  twelve. 
It  was  some  church  bell  tolling  the  hour.  My  pleasing  fancies 
dispersed — I  again  faced  the  drear  reality  of  my  position. 
Twelve  o'clock!  Midday  or  midnight?  I  could  not  tell.  I 
began  to  calculate.  It  was  early  morning  when  I  had  been 
taken  ill — not  much  past  eight  when  I  had  met  the  monk  and 
sought  his  assistance  for  the  poor  little  fruit-seller  who  had 
after  all  perished  alone  in  his  sufferings.  Now  supposing  my 
illness  had  lasted  some  hours,  I  might  have  fallen  into  a 
trance — died — as  those  around  me  had  thought,  somewhere 
about  noon.  In  that  case  they  would  certainly  have  buried 
me  with  as  little  delay  as  possible — before  sunset  at  all  events. 
Thinking  these  points  over  one  by  one,  I  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  the  bell  I  had  just  heard  must  have  struck  mid- 
night— the  midnight  of  the  very  day  of  my  burial.  I  shivered ; 
a  kind  of  nervous  dread  stole  over  me.  I  have  always  been 
physically  courageous,  but  at  the  same  time,  in  spite  of  my 
education,  I  am  somewhat  superstitious — what  Neapolitan  is 
not?  it  runs  in  the  Southern  blood.  And  there  was  something 
unutterably  fearful  in  the  sound  of  that  midnight  bell  clanging 


28  vendetta! 

harshly  on  the  ears  of  a  man  pent  up  alive  in  a  funeral  vault 
with  the  decaying  bodies  of  his  ancestors  close  within  reach 
of  his  hand !  I  tried  to  conquer  my  f eehngs— to  summon  up 
my  fortitude.  I  endeavored  to  reason  out  the  best  method  of 
escape.  I  resolved  to  feel  my  way,  if  possible,  to  the  steps  of 
the  vault,  and  with  this  idea  in  my  mind  I  put  out  my  hands 
and  began  to  move  along  slowly  and  with  the  utmost  care. 
What  was  that?  I  stopped;  I  listened;  the  blood  curdled  in 
my  veins!  A  shrill  cry,  piercing,  prolonged  and  melancholy, 
echoed  through  the  hollow  arches  of  my  tomb.  A  cold  per- 
spiration broke  out  all  over  my  body— my  heart  beat  so  loudly 
that  I  could  hear  it  thumping  against  my  ribs.  Again— again 
— that  weird  shriek,  followed  by  a  whir  and  flap  of  wings.  I 
breathed  again. 

"It  is  an  owl,"  I  said  to  myself,  ashamed  of  my  fears;  "a 
poor  innocent  bird — a  companion  and  watcher  of  the  dead,  and 
therefore  its  voice  is  full  of  sorrowful  lamentation— but  it  is 
harmless,"  and  I  crept  on  with  increased  caution.  Suddenly 
out  of  the  dense  darkness  there  stared  two  large  yellow  eyes, 
glittering  with  fiendish  hunger  and  cruelty.  For  a  moment  I 
was  startled,  and  stepped  back ;  the  creature  flew  at  me  with 
the  ferocity  of  a  tiger-cat !  I  fought  with  the  horrible  thing 
in  all  directions;  it  wheeled  round  my  head,  it  pounced 
toward  my  face,  it  beat  me  with  its  large  wings— wings  that  I 
could  feel  but  not  see;  the  yellow  eyes  alone  shone  in  the 
thick  gloom  like  the  eyes  of  some  vindictive  demon !  I  struck 
at  it  right  and  left — the  revolting  combat  lasted  some  moments 
— I  grew  sick  and  dizzy,  yet  I  battled  on  recklessly.  At  last, 
thank  Heaven!  the  huge  owl  was  vanquished;  it  fluttered 
backward  and  downward,  apparently  exhausted,  giving  one 
wild  screech  of  baffled  fury,  as  its  lamp-like  eyes  disappeared 
in  the  darkness.  Breathless,  but  not  subdued— every  nerve 
in  my  body  quivering  with  excitement — I  pursued  my  way,  as 
I  thought,  toward  the  stone  staircase,  feeling  the  air  with  my 
outstretched  hands  as  I  groped  along.  In  a  little  while  I  met 
with  an  obstruction — it  was  hard  and  cold — a  stone  wall, 
surely!  I  felt  it  up  and  down  and  found  a  hollow  in  it— was 
this  the  first  step  of  the  stair?  I  wondered;  it  seemed  very 
high.  I  touched  it  cautiously— suddenly  I  came  in  contact 
with  something  soft  and  clammy  to  the  touch  like  moss  or 
wet  velvet.  Fingering  this  with  a  kind  of  repulsion,  I  soon 
traced  out  the  oblong  shape  of  a  coffin.     Curiously  enough,  I 


VENDETTA !  29 

was  not  affected  much  by  the  discovery.  I  found  myself 
monotonously  counting  the  bits  of  raised  metal  which  served, 
as  I  judged,  for  its  ornamentation.  Eight  bits  lengthwise — 
and  the  soft  wet  stuff  between — four  bits  across;  then  a  pang 
shot  through  me,  and  I  drew  my  hand  away  quickly,  as  I  con- 
sidered— whose  coffin  was  this?  My  father's?  Or  was  I  thus 
plucking,  like  a  man  in  delirium,  at  the  fragments  of  velvet 
on  that  cumbrous  oaken  casket  wherein  lay  the  sacred  ashes 
of  my  mother's  perished  beauty?  I  roused  myself  from  the 
apathy  into  which  I  had  fallen.  All  the  pains  I  had  taken  to 
find  my  way  through  the  vault  were  wasted;  I  was  lost  in  the 
profound  gloom,  and  knew  not  where  to  turn.  The  horror  of 
my  situation  presented  itself  to  me  with  redoubled  force.  I 
began  to  be  tormented  with  thirst.  I  fell  on  my  knees  and 
groaned  aloud. 

"  God  of  infinite  mercy!"  I  cried.  "Saviour  of  the  world! 
By  the  souls  of  the  sacred  dead  whom  Thou  hast  in  Thy  holy 
keeping,  have  pity  upon  me !  Oh,  my  mother !  if  indeed  thine 
earthly  remains  are  near  me — think  of  me,  sweet  angel  in  that 
heaven  where  thy  spirit  dwells  at  rest — plead  for  me  and  save 
me,  or  let  me  die  now  and  be  tortured  no  more !" 

I  uttered  these  words  aloud,  and  the  sound  of  my  wailing 
voice  ringing  through  the  sombre  arches  of  the  vault  was 
strange  and  full  of  fantastic  terror  to  my  own  ears.  I  knew 
that  were  my  agony  much  further  prolonged  I  should  go  mad. 
And  I  dared  not  picture  to  myself  the  frightful  things  of  which 
a  maniac  might  be  capable,  shut  up  in  such  a  place  of  death 
and  darkness,  with  moldering  corpses  for  companions !  I  re- 
mained on  my  knees,  my  face  buried  in  my  hands.  I  forced 
myself  into  comparative  calmness,  and  strove  to  preserve  the 
equilibrium  of  my  distracted  mind.  Hush !  What  exquisite 
far-off  floating  voice  of  cheer  was  that?  I  raised  my  head  and 
listened,  entranced! 

"J^&  ji^g'  ji^g!  lodola,  lodola!  trill-lil-lil !  sweet,  sweet, 
sweet!" 

It  was  a  nightingale.  Familiar,  delicious,  angel-throated 
bird!  How  I  blessed  thee  in  that  dark  hour  of  despair!  How 
I  praised  God  for  thine  innocent  existence !  How  I  sprung 
up  and  laughed  and  wept  for  joy,  as,  all  unconscious  of  me, 
thou  didst  shake  out  a  shower  of  pearly  warblings  on  the 
breast  of  the  soothed  air!  Heavenly  messenger  of  consola- 
tion!— even  now  I  think  of  thee  with  tenderness — for  thy  sweet 


30  vendetta! 

sake  all  birds  possess  me  as  their  worshiper;  humanity  has 
grown  hideous  in  my  sight,  but  the  singing  life  of  the  woods 
and  hills— how  pure,  how  fresh  '.—the  nearest  thing  to  happi- 
ness on  this  side  heaven ! 

A  rush  of  strength  and  courage  invigorated  me.  A  new 
idea  entered  my  brain.  I  determined  to  follow  the  voice  of 
the  nightingale.  It  sung  on  sweetly,  encouragingly— and  I 
began  afresh  my  journey ings  through  the  darkness,  I  fancied 
that  the  bird  was  perched  on  one  of  the  trees  outside  the  en- 
trance of  the  vault,  and  that  if  I  tried  to  get  within  closer 
hearing  of  its  voice,  I  should  most  likely  be  thus  guided  to  the 
very  staircase  I  had  been  so  painfully  seeking,  I  stumbled 
along  slowly.  I  felt  feeble,  and  my  limbs  shook  under  me. 
This  time  nothing  impeded  my  progress;  the  nightingale's 
liquid  notes  floated  nearer  and  nearer,  and  hope,  almost  ex- 
hausted, sprung  up  again  in  my  heart.  I  was  scarcely  con- 
scious of  my  own  movements.  I  seemed  to  be  drawn  along 
like  one  in  a  dream  by  the  golden  thread  of  the  bird's  sweet 
singing.  All  at  once  I  caught  my  foot  against  a  stone  and  fell 
forward  with  some  force,  but  I  felt  no  pain— my  limbs  were 
too  numb  to  be  sensible  of  any  fresh  suffering.  I  raised  my 
heavy,  aching  eyes  in  the  darkness ;  as  I  did  so  I  uttered  an 
exclamation  of  thanksgiving.  A  slender  stream  of  moonlight, 
no  thicker  than  the  stem  of  an  arrow,  slanted  downward 
toward  me,  and  showed  me  that  I  had  at  last  reached  the  spot 
I  sought— in  fact  I  had  fallen  upon  the  lowest  step  of  the  stone 
stairway.  I  could  not  distinguish  the  entrance  door  of  the 
vault,  but  I  knew  that  it  must  be  at  the  summit  of  the  steep 
ascent.  I  was  too  weary  to  move  further  just  then.  I  lay 
still  where  I  was,  staring  at  the  solitary  moon-ray,  and  listen- 
ing to  the  nightingale,  whose  rapturous  melodies  now  rang 
out  upon  my  ears  with  full  distinctness.  One!  The  harsh- 
toned  bell  I  had  heard  before  clanged  forth  the  hour.  It 
would  soon  be  morning;  I  resolved  to  rest  till  then.  Utterly 
worn  out  in  body  and  mind,  I  laid  down  my  head  upon  the 
cold  stones  as  readily  as  if  they  had  been  the  softest  cushions, 
and  in  a  few  moments  forgot  all  my  miseries  in  a  profound 

sleep. 

******* 

I  must  have  slumbered  for  some  time,  when  I  was  suddenly 
awakened  by  a  suffocating  sensation  of  faintness  and  nausea, 
accompanied  by  a  sharp  pain  on  my  neck  as  though  soma 


'  VENDETTA !  3 I 

creatures  were  stinging  me.  I  put  my  hand  up  to  the  place — 
God !  shall  I  ever  forget  the  feel  of  the  Thing  my  trembling 
fingers  closed  upon !  It  was  fastened  in  my  flesh — a  winged, 
clammy,  breathing  horror!  It  clung  to  me  with  a  loathly 
persistency  that  nearly  drove  me  frantic,  and  wild  with  dis- 
gust and  terror  I  screamed  aloud!  I  closed  both  hands  con- 
vulsively upon  its  fat,  soft  body — I  literally  tore  it  from  my 
flesh  and  flung  it  as  far  back  as  I  could  into  the  interior  black- 
ness of  the  vault.  For  a  time  I  believe  I  was  indeed  mad — the 
echoes  rang  with  the  piercing  shrieks  I  could  not  restrain! 
Silent  at  last  through  sheer  exhaustion  I  glared  about  me. 
The  moonbeam  had  vanished ;  in  its  place  lay  a  shaft  of  pale 
gray  light,  by  which  I  could  easily  distinguish  the  whole 
length  of  the  staircase  and  the  closed  gateway  at  its  summit. 
I  rushed  up  the  ascent  with  the  feverish  haste  of  a  madman — 
I  grasped  the  iron  grating  with  both  hands  and  shook  it 
fiercely.  It  was  firm  as  a  rock,  locked  fast.  I  called  for  help. 
Utter  silence  answered  me.  I  peered  through  the  closely 
twisted  bars.  I  saw  the  grass,  the  drooping  boughs  of  trees, 
and  straight  before  my  line  of  vision  a  little  piece  of  the 
blessed  sky,  opal-tinted  and  faintly  blushing  with  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  approaching  sunrise.  I  drank  in  the  sweet 
fresh  air ;  a  long  trailing  branch  of  the  wild  grapevine  hung 
near  me ;  its  leaves  were  covered  thickly  with  dew.  I 
squeezed  one  hand  through  the  grating  and  gathered  a  few  of 
these  green  morsels  of  coolness — I  ate  them  greedily.  They 
seemed  to  me  more  delicious  than  anything  I  had  ever  tasted 
they  relieved  the  burning  fever  of  my  parched  throat  and 
tongue.  The  glimpse  of  the  trees  and  sky  soothed  and  calmed 
me.  There  was  a  gentle  twittering  of  awakening  birds ;  my 
nightingale  had  ceased  singing. 

I  began  to  recover  slowly  from  my  nervous  terrors,  and  lean- 
ing against  the  gloomy  arch  of  my  charnel-house  I  took  cour- 
age to  glance  backward  down  the  steep  stairway  up  which  I 
had  sprung  with  such  furious  precipitation.  Something  white 
lay  in  a  corner  on  the  seventh  step  from  the  top.  Curious  to 
see  what  it  was,  I  descended  cautiously,  and  with  some  reluc- 
tance; it  was  the  half  of  a  thick  waxen  taper,  such  as  are  used 
in  the  Catholic  ritual  at  the  burial  of  the  dead.  No  doubt  it 
had  been  thrown  down  there  by  some  careless  acolyte  to  save 
himself  the  trouble  of  carrying  it  after  the  service  had  ended. 
I  looked  at  it  meditatively.     If  I  only  had  a  light!      I  plunged 


32  vendetta! 

my  hands  half  abstractedly  into  the  pockets  of  my  trousers^ 
something  jingled!  Truly  they  had  buried  me  in  haste.  My 
purse,  a  small  bunch  of  keys,  my  card-case — one  by  one  I 
drew  them  out  and  examined  them  surprisedly — they  looked 
so  familiar,  and  withal  so  strange !  I  searched  again ;  and  this 
time  found  something  of  real  value  to  one  in  my  condition — a 
small  box  of  wax  vestas.  Now,  had  they  left  me  my  cigar- 
case?  No,  that  was  gone.  It  was  a  valuable  silver  one — no 
doubt  the  monk,  who  attended  my  supposed  last  moments, 
had  taken  it,  together  with  my  watch  and  chain,  to  my  wife. 

Well,  I  could  not  smoke,  but  I  could  strike  a  light.  And 
there  was  the  funeral  taper  ready  for  use.  The  sun  had  not 
yet  risen.  I  must  certainly  wait  till  broad  day  before  I  could 
hope  to  attract  by  my  shouts  any  stray  person  who  might  pass 
through  the  cemetery.  Meanwhile,  a  fantastic  idea  suggested 
itself.  I  would  go  and  look  at  my  own  coffin !  Why  not?  It 
would  be  a  novel  experience.  The  sense  of  fear  had  entirely 
deserted  me ;  the  possession  of  that  box  of  matches  was  suffi- 
cient to  endow  me  with  absolute  hardihood.  I  picked  up  the 
church-candle  and  lighted  it;  it  gave  at  first  a  feeble  flicker, 
but  afterward  burned  with  a  clear  and  steady  flame.  Shading 
it  with  one  hand  from  the  draught,  I  gave  a  parting  glance  at 
the  fair  daylight  that  peeped  smilingly  in  through  my  prison 
door,  and  then  went  down — down  again  into  the  dismal  place 
where  I  had  passed  the  night  in  such  indescribable  agony. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Numbers  of  lizards  glided  away  from  my  feet  as  I  descended 
the  steps,  and  when  the  flare  of  my  torch  penetrated  the  dark- 
ness I  heard  a  scurrying  of  wings  mingled  with  various  hissing 
sounds  and  wild  cries.  I  knew  now — none  better — what  weird 
and  abominable  things  had  habitation  in  this  storehouse  of 
the  dead,  but  I  felt  I  could  defy  them  all,  armed  with  the  light 
I  carried.  The  way  that  had  seemed  so  long  in  the  dense 
gloom  was  brief  and  easy,  and  I  soon  found  myself  at  the 
scene  of  my  unexpected  awakening  from  sleep.  The  actual 
body  of  the  vault  was  square-shaped,  like  a  small  room  in- 
closed within  high  walls — walls  which  were  scooped  out  in 
various  places  so  as  to  form  niches  in  which  the  narrow  cas- 


vendetta!  33 

kets  containing  the  bones  of  all  the  departed  members  of  the 
Romani  family  were  placed  one  above  the  other  like  so  many 
bales  of  goods  arranged  evenly  on  the  shelves  of  an  ordinary 
warehouse.  I  held  the  candle  high  above  my  head  and  looked 
about  me  with  a  morbid  interest.  I  soon  perceived  what  I 
sought — my  own  coffin. 

There  it  was  in  a  niche  some  five  feet  from  the  ground,  its 
splintered  portions  bearing  decided  witness  to  the  dreadful 
struggle  I  had  made  to  obtain  my  freedom.  I  advanced  and 
examined  it  closely.  It  was  a  frail  shell  enough— unlined, 
unornamented — a  wretched  sample  of  the  undertaker's  art, 
though  God  knows  /  had  no  fault  to  find  with  its  workman- 
ship, nor  with  the  haste  of  him  who  fashioned  it.  Something 
shone  at  the  bottom  of  it — it  was  a  crucifix  of  ebony  and  sil- 
ver. That  good  monk  again !  His  conscience  had  not  allowed 
him  to  see  me  buried  without  this  sacred  symbol ;  he  had  per- 
haps laid  it  on  my  breast  as  the  last  service  he  could  render 
me ;  it  had  fallen  from  thence,  no  doubt,  when  I  had  wrenched 
my  way  through  the  boards  that  inclosed  me.  I  took  it  and 
kissed  it  reverently — I  resolved  that  if  ever  I  met  the  holy 
father  again,  I  would  tell  him  my  story,  and,  as  a  proof  of  its 
truth,  restore  to  him  this  cross,  which  he  would  be  sure  to 
recognize.  Had  they  put  my  name  on  the  coffin-lid.?  I  won- 
dered. Yes,  there  it  was — painted  on  the  wood  in  coarse, 
black  letters,  "  Fabio  Romani" — then  followed  the  date  of  my 
birth;  then  a  short  Latin  inscription,  stating  that  I  had  died 
of  cholera  on  August  15,  1884.  That  was  yesterday — only 
yesterday!     I  seemed  to  have  lived  a  century  since  then. 

I  turned  to  look  at  my  father's  resting-place.  The  velvet 
on  his  coffin  hung  from  its  sides  in  moldering  remnants — but 
it  was  not  so  utterly  damp-destroyed  and  worm-eaten  as  the 
soaked  and  indistinguishable  material  that  still  clung  to  the 
massive  oaken  chest  in  the  next  niche,  where  she  lay — she 
from  whose  tender  arms  I  had  received  my  first  embrace — she  in 
whose  loving  eyes  I  had  first  beheld  the  world !  I  knew  by  a 
sort  of  instinct  that  it  must  have  been  with  the  frayed  frag- 
ments on  her  coffin  that  my  fingers  had  idly  played  in  the 
darkness.  I  counted,  as  before,  the  bits  of  metal — eight  bits 
lengthwise,  and  four  bits  across — and  on  my  father's  close 
casket  there  were  ten  silver  plates  lengthwise  and  five  across. 
My  poor  little  mother!  I  thought  of  her  picture — it  hung  in 
my  library  at  home;  the  picture  of  a  young,  smiling,  dark- 
3 


34  VENDETTA^.  \ 

haired  beauty,  whose  delicate  tint  was  as  that  of  a  peach  ripen- 
ing in  the  summer  sun.  All  that  loveliness  had  decayed  into 
— what?  I  shuddered  involuntarily — then  I  knelt  humbly 
before  those  two  sad  hollows  in  the  cold  stone,  and  implored 
the  blessing  of  the  dead  and  gone  beloved  ones  to  whom,  while 
they  lived,  my  welfare  had  been  dear.  While  I  occupied  this 
kneeling  position  the  flame  of  my  torch  fell  directly  on  some 
small  object  that  glittered  with  remarkable  luster.  I  went  to 
examine  it;  it  was  a  jeweled  pendant  composed  of  one  large 
pear-shaped  pearl,  set  round  with  fine  rose  brilliants!  Sur- 
prised at  this  discovery,  I  looked  about  to  see  where  such  a 
valuable  gem  could  possibly  have  come  from.  I  then  noticed 
an  unusually  large  cofhn  lying  sideways  on  the  ground;  it 
appeared  as  if  it  had  fallen  suddenly  and  with  force,  for  a 
number  of  loose  stones  and  mortar  were  sprinkled  near  it. 
Holding  the  light  close  to  the  ground,  I  observed  that  a  niche 
exactly  below  the  one  in  which  J  had  been  laid  was  empty, 
and  that  a  considerable  portion  of  the  wall  there  was  broken 
away.  I  then  remembered  that  when  I  had  sprung  so  desper- 
ately out  of  my  narrow  box  I  had  heard  something  fall  with  a 
crash  beside  me.  This  was  the  thing,  then — this  long  coffin, 
big  enough  to  contain  a  man  seven  feet  high  and  broad  in 
proportion.  What  gigantic  ancestor  had  I  irreverently  dis- 
lodged?— and  was  it  from  a  skeleton  throat  that  the  rare  jewel 
which  I  held  in  my  hand  had  been  accidentally  shaken? 

My  curiosity  was  excited,  and  I  bent  close  to  examine  the 
lid  of  this  funeral  chest.  There  was  no  name  on  it — no  mark 
of  any  sort,  save  one — a  dagger  roughly  painted  in  red.  Here 
was  a  mystery !  I  resolved  to  penetrate  it.  I  set  up  my  can- 
dle in  a  little  crevice  of  one  of  the  empty  niches,  and  laid  the 
pearl  and  diamond  pendant  beside  it,  thus  disembarrassing 
myself  of  all  incumbrance.  The  huge  coffin  lay  on  its  side, 
as  I  have  said ;  its  uppermost  corner  was  splintered ;  I  applied 
both  hands  to  the  work  of  breaking  further  asunder  these 
already  split  portions.  As  I  did  so  a  leathern  pouch  or  bag 
rolled  out  and  fell  at  my  feet.  I  picked  it  up  and  opened  it — 
it  was  full  of  gold  pieces !  More  excited  than  ever,  I  seized  a 
large  pointed  stone,  and  by  the  aid  of  this  extemporized 
instrument,  together  with  the  force  of  my  own  arms,  hands, 
and  feet,  I  managed,  after  some  ten  minutes'  hard  labor,  to 
break  open  the  mysterious  casket. 

When  I  had  accomplished  this  deed  I  stared  at  the  result 


VENDETTA?  35 

like  a  man  stupefied.  No  moldering  horror  met  my  gaze — no 
blanched  or  decaying  bones;  no  grinning  skull  mocked  me 
with  its  hollow  eye-sockets.  I  looked  upon  a  treasure  worthy 
of  an  emperor's  envy !  The  big  coffin  was  literally  lined  and 
packed  with  incalculable  wealth.  Fifty  large  leathern  bags 
tied  with  coarse  cord  lay  uppermost;  more  than  half  of  these 
were  crammed  with  gold  coins,  the  rest  were  full  of  priceless 
gems — necklaces,  tiaras,  bracelets,  watches,  chains,  and  other 
articles  of  feminine  adornment  were  mingled  with  loose 
precious  stones — diamonds,  rubies,  emeralds,  and  opals,  some 
of  unusual  size  and  luster,  some  uncut,  and  some  all  ready  for 
the  jeweler's  setting.  Beneath  the  bags  were  packed  a  number 
of  pieces  of  silk,  velvet,  and  cloth  of  gold,  each  piece  being 
wrapped  by  itself  in  a  sort  of  oil-skin,  strongly  perfumed  with 
camphor  and  other  spices.  There  were  also  three  lengths  of 
old  lace,  fine  as  gossamer,  of  matchless  artistic  design,  in  per- 
fect condition.  Among  these  materials  lay  two  large  trays  of 
solid  gold  workmanship,  most  exquisitely  engraved  and  orna- 
mented, also  four  gold  drinking-cups,  of  quaint  and  massive 
construction.  Other  valuables  and  curious  trifles  there  were, 
such  as  an  ivory  statuette  of  Psyche  on  a  silver  pedestal,  a 
waist  band  of  coins  linked  together,  a  painted  fan  with  a 
handle  set  in  amber  and  turquoise,  a  fine  steel  dagger  in  a 
jeweled  sheath,  and  a  mirror  framed  in  old  pearls.  Last,  but 
not  least,  at  the  very  bottom  of  the  chest,  lay  rolls  upon  rolls 
of  paper  money  amounting  to  some  millions  of  francs — in  all 
far  surpassing  what  I  had  myself  formerly  enjoyed  from  my 
own  revenues.  I  plunged  my  hands  deep  in  the  leathern 
bags ;  I  fingered  the  rich  materials ;  all  this  treasure  was  mine! 
1 1  had  found  it  in  my  own  burial  vault !  I  had  surely  the  right 
to  consider  it  as  my  property.  I  began  to  consider — ho'w 
could  it  have  been  placed  there  without  my  knowledge?  The 
answer  to  this  question  occurred  to  me  at  once.  Brigands ! 
Of  course  ! — what  a  fool  I  was  not  to  have  thought  of  them  be- 
fore; the  dagger  painted  on  the  lid  of  the  chest  should  have 
guided  me  to  the  solution  of  the  mystery.  A  red  dagger  was 
the  recognized  sign-manual  of  a  bold  and  dangerous  brigand 
named  Carmelo  Neri,  who,  with  his  reckless  gang,  haunted 
the  vicinity  of  Palermo. 

"  So !"  I  thought,  "  this  is  one  of  your  bright  ideas,  my  cut- 
throat Carmelo !  Cunning  rogue !  you  calculated  well — you 
thought  that  none  would  disturb  the  dead,  much  less  break 


36  vendetta! 

open  a  coffin  in  search  of  gold.  Admirably  planned,  my  Car- 
melo !  But  this  time  you  must  play  a  losing  game !  A  sup- 
posed dead  man  coming  to  life  again  deserves  something  for  his 
trouble,  and  I  should  be  a  fool  not  to  accept  the  goods  the  gods 
and  the  robbers  provide.  An  ill-gotten  hoard  of  wealth,  no 
doubt;  but  better  in  my  hands  than  in  yours,  friend  Carmelo!" 
And  I  meditated  for  some  minutes  on  this  strange  affair. 
If,  indeed — and  I  saw  no  reason  to  doubt  it — I  had  chanced  to 
find  some  of  the  spoils  of  the  redoubtable  Neri,  this  great 
chest  must  have  been  brought  over  by  sea  from  Palermo. 
Probably  four  stout  rascals  had  carried  the  supposed  coffin  in 
a  mock  solemn  procession,  under  the  pretence  of  its  contain- 
ing the  body  of  a  comrade.  These  thieves  have  a  high  sense 
of  humor.  Yet  the  question  remained  to  be  solved — how  had 
they  gained  access  to  7ny  ancestral  vault  unless  by  means  of  a 
false  key?  All  at  once  I  was  left  in  darkness.  My  candle 
went  out  as  though  blown  upon  by  a  gust  of  air.  I  had  my 
matches,  and  of  course  could  easily  light  it  again,  but  I  was 
puzzled  to  imagine  the  cause  of  its  sudden  extinction.  I 
looked  about  me  in  the  temporary  gloom  and  saw,  to  my  sur- 
prise, a  ray  of  light  proceeding  from  a  corner  of  the  very  niche 
where  I  had  fixed  the  candle  between  two  stones.  I  ap- 
proached and  put  my  hand  to  the  place ;  a  strong  draught  blew 
through  a  hole  large  enough  to  admit  the  passage  of  three  fin- 
gers. I  quickly  relighted  my  torch,  and  examining  this  hole, 
and  the  back  of  the  niche  attentively,  found  that  four  blocks 
of  granite  in  the  wall  had  been  removed  and  their  places  sup- 
plied by  thick  square  logs  cut  from  the  trunks  of  trees.  These 
logs  were  quite  loosely  fitted.  I  took  them  out  easily  one  by 
one,  and  then  came  upon  a  close  pile  of  brushwood.  As  I 
gradually  cleared  this  away  a  large  aperture  disclosed  itself 
wide  enough  for  any  man  to  pass  through  without  trouble. 
My  heart  beat  with  the  rapture  of  expected  liberty.  I  clam- 
bered up — I  looked — thank  God!  I  saw  the  landscape — the 
sky!  In  two  minutes  I  stood  outside  the  vault  on  the  soft 
grass,  with  the  high  arch  of  heaven  above  me,  and  the  broad 
Bay  of  Naples  glittering  deliciously  before  my  eyes!  I 
clapped  my  hands  and  shouted  for  pure  joy!  I  was  free! 
Free  to  return  to  life,  to  love,  to  the  arms  of  my  beautiful 
Nina — free  to  resume  the  pleasant  course  of  existence  on  the 
gladsome  earth — free  to  forget,  if  I  could,  the  gloomy  horrors 
of  my  premature   burial.     If   Carmelo   Neri  had  heard  the 


vendetta!  37 

blessings  I  heaped  upon  his  head,  he  would  for  once  have 
deemed  himself  a  saint  rather  than  a  brigand.  What  did  I  not 
owe  to  the  glorious  ruthan !  Fortune  and  freedom !  for  it  was 
evident  that  this  secret  passage  into  the  Romani  vault  had 
been  cunningly  contrived  by  himself  or  his  followers  for  their 
own  private  purposes.  Seldom  has  any  man  been  more  grate- 
ful to  his  best  benefactor  than  I  was  to  the  famous  thief  upon 
whose  grim  head,  as  I  knew,  a  price  had  been  set  for  many 
months.  The  poor  wretch  was  in  hiding.  Well!  the  author- 
ities should  get  no  aid  from  me.  I  resolved,  even  if  I  were  to 
discover  his  whereabouts.  Why  should  I  betray  him?  He 
had  unconsciously  done  more  for  me  than  my  best  friend. 
Nay,  what  friends  will  you  find  at  all  in  the  world  when  you 
need  substantiAl  good?  Few,  or  none.  Touch  the  purse — 
test  the  heart ! 

What  castles  in  the  air  I  built  as  I  stood  rejoicing  in  the 
morning  light  and  my  newly  acquired  liberty — what  dreams 
of  perfect  happiness  flitted  radiantly  before  my  fancy!  Nina 
and  I  would  love  each  other  more  fondly  than  before,  I  thought 
— our  separation  had  been  brief,  but  terrible — and  the  idea  of 
what  it  might  have  been  would  endear  us  to  one  another  with 
tenfold  fervor.  And  little  Stella !  Why — this  very  evening  I 
would  swing  her  again  under  the  orange  boughs  and  listen  to 
her  sweet  shrill  laughter!  This  very  evening  I  would  clasp 
Guide's  hand  in  a  gladness  too  great  for  words!  This  very 
night  my  wife's  fair  head  would  lie  pillowed  on  my  breast  in 
an  ecstatic  silence,  broken  only  by  the  music  of  kisses.  Ah ! 
my  brain  grew  dizzy  with  the  joyful  visions  that  crowded 
thickly  and  dazzlingly  upon  me !  The  sun  had  risen — his  long 
straight  beams,  like  golden  spears,  touched  the  tops  of  the 
green  trees,  and  roused  little  flashes  as  of  red  and  blue  fire  on 
the  shining  surface  of  the  bay.  I  heard  the  rippling  of  water 
and  the  measured  soft  dash  of  oars ;  and  somewhere  from  a 
distant  boat  the  mellifluous  voice  of  a  sailor  sung  a  verse  of 
the  popular  ritornello — 

"  Sciore  d'  amenta 
Sta  parol ella  tnia  tieuV  ammenta 

Zonipa  llarl  I  lira  ! 
Sciore  limone  ! 
Le  voglio  fa  jnorl  de  passz'one 

Zompa  llarl  I  lira  !  "  * 

*  Neapolitan  dialect. 


38         ~  vendetta! 

I  smiled — "  Mori  de  passione!"  Nina  and  I  would  know  the 
meaning  of  those  sweet  words  when  the  moon  rose  and  the 
nightingale  sung  their  love-songs  to  the  dreaming  flowers! 
Full  of  these  happy  fancies,  I  inhaled  the  pure  morning  air  for 
some  minutes,  and  then  re-entered  the  vault. 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  first  thing  I  did  was  to  repack  all  the  treasures  I  had 
discovered.  This  work  was  easily  accomplished.  For  the 
present  I  contented  myself  v/ith  taking  two  of  the  leathern 
bags  for  my  own  use,  one  full  of  gold  pieces,  the  other  of 
jewels.  The  chest  had  been  strongly  made,  and  was  not 
much  injured  by  being  forced  open.  I  closed  its  lid  as  tightly 
as  possible,  and  dragged  it  to  a  remote  and  dark  corner  of  the 
vault,  where  I  placed  three  heavy  stones  upon  it.  I  then  took 
the  two  leathern  pouches  I  had  selected,  and  stuffed  one  in 
each  of  the  pockets  of  my  trousers.  The  action  reminded  me 
of  the  scantiness  of  attire  in  which  I  stood  arrayed.  Could  I 
be  seen  in  the  public  roads  in  such  a  plight?  I  examined  my 
purse,  which,  as  I  before  stated,  had  been  left  to  me,  together 
with  my  keys  and  card-case,  by  the  terrified  persons  who  had 
huddled  me  into  my  coffin  with  such  scant  ceremony.  It  con- 
tained two  twenty-franc  pieces  and  some  loose  silver. 
Enough  to  buy  a  decent  costume  of  some  sort.  But  where 
could  I  make  the  purchase,  and  how?  Must  I  wait  till  even- 
ing and  slink  out  of  this  charnel-house  like  the  ghost  of  a 
wretched  criminal?  No!  come  what  would,  I  made  up  my 
mind  not  to  linger  a  moment  longer  in  the  vault.  The  swarms 
of  beggars  that  infest  Naples  exhibit  themselves  in  every 
condition  of  rags,  dirt,  and  misery ;  at  the  very  worst  I  could 
only  be  taken  for  one  of  them.  And  whatever  difficulties  I 
might  encounter,  no  matter! — they  would  soon  be  over. 

Satisfied  that  I  had  placed  the  brigand  coffin  in  a  safe 
position,  I  secured  the  pearl  and  diamond  pendant  I  had  first 
found  to  the  chain  round  my  neck.  I  intended  this  ornament 
as  a  gift  for  my  wife.  Then,  once  more  climbing  through  the 
aperture,  I  closed  it  completely  with  the  logs  and  brushwood 
as  it  was  before,  and  examining  it  narrowly  from  the  outside,  I 
saw  that  it  was  utterly  impossible  to  discern  the  smallest  hint  of 


VENDETTA !  39 

any  entrance  to  a  subterranean  passage,  so  well  and  cunningly 
had  it  been  contrived.  Now,  nothing  more  remained  for  me 
to  do  but  to  make  the  best  of  my  way  to  the  city,  there  to  de- 
clare my  identity,  obtain  food  and  clothes,  and  then  to  hasten 
with  all  possible  speed  to  my  own  residence. 

Standing  on  a  little  hillock,  I  looked  about  me  to  see  which 
direction  I  should  take.  The  cemetery  was  situated  on  the 
outskirts  of  Naples — Naples  itself  lay  on  my  left  hand.  I  per- 
ceived a  sloping  road  winding  in  that  direction,  and  judged 
that  if  I  followed  it  it  would  lead  me  to  the  city  suburbs. 
Without  further  hesitation  I  commenced  my  walk.  It  was 
now  full  day.  My  bare  feet  sunk  deep  in  the  dust  that  was 
hot  as  desert  sand — the  blazing  sun  beat  down  fiercely  on  my 
uncovered  head,  but  I  felt  none  of  these  discomforts;  my 
heart  was  too  full  of  gladness.  I  could  have  sung  aloud  for 
delight  as  I  stepped  swiftly  along  toward  home — and  Nina!  I 
was  aware  of  a  great  weakness  in  my  limbs — my  eyes  and 
head  ached  with  the  strong  dazzling  light;  occasionally,  too, 
an  icy  shiver  ran  through  me  that  made  my  teeth  chatter. 
But  I  recognized  these  symptoms  as  the  after  effects  of  my 
so  nearly  fatal  illness,  and  I  paid  no  heed  to  them.  A  few 
weeks'  rest  under  my  wife's  loving  care,  and  I  knew  I  should 
be  as  well  as  ever.  I  stepped  on  bravely.  For  some  time  I 
met  no  one,  but  at  last  I  overtook  a  small  cart  laden  with 
freshly  gathered  grapes.  The  driver  lay  on  his  seat  asleep ; 
his  pony  meanwhile  cropped  the  green  herbage  by  the  road- 
side, and  every  now  and  then  shook  the  jingling  bells  on  his 
harness  as  though  expressing  the  satisfaction  he  felt  at  being 
left  to  his  own  devices.  The  piled-up  grapes  looked  tempting, 
and  I  was  both  hungry  and  thirsty.  I  laid  a  hand  on  the 
sleeping  man's  shoulder;  he  awoke  with  a  start.  Seeing  me, 
his  face  assumed  an  expression  of  the  wildest  terror;  he' 
jumped  from  his  cart  and  sunk  down  on  his  knees  in  the  dust, 
imploring  me  by  the  Madonna,  St.  Joseph,  and  all  the  saints 
to  spare  his  life.  I  laughed ;  his  fears  seemed  to  me  ludicrous. 
Surely  there  was  nothing  alarming  about  me  beyond  my 
paucity  of  clothing. 

"  Get  up,  man !"  I  said.  "  I  want  nothing  of  you  but  a  few 
grapes,  and  for  them  I  will  pay."  And  I  held  out  to  him  a 
couple  of  francs.  He  rose  from  the  dust,  still  trembling  and 
eying  me  askance  with  evident  suspicion,  took  several  bunches 
of  the  purple  fruit,  and  gave  them  to  me  without  saying  a 


40  VENDETTA ! 

word.  Then,  pocketing  the  money  I  proffered,  he  sprung  into 
his  cart,  and  lashing  his  pony  till  the  unfortunate  animal 
plunged  and  reared  with  pain  and  fury,  rattled  off  down  the 
road  at  such  a  break-neck  speed  that  I  saw  nothing  but  a 
whirling  blot  of  wheels  disappearing  in  the  distance.  I  was 
amused  at  the  absurdity  of  this  man's  terror.  What  did  he 
take  me  for,  I  wondered?  A  ghost  or  a  brigand?  I  ate  my 
grapes  leisurely  as  I  walked  along — they  were  deliciously  cool 
and  refreshing — food  and  wine  in  one.  I  met  several  other 
persons  as  I  neared  the  city,  market-people  and  venders  of 
ices — but  they  took  no  note  of  me — in  fact,  I  avoided  them  all 
as  much  as  possible.  On  reaching  the  surburbs  I  turned  into 
the  first  street  I  saw  that  seemed  likely  to  contain  a  few  shops. 
It  was  close  and  dark  and  foul-smelling,  but  I  had  not  gone 
far  down  it  when  I  came  upon  the  sort  of  place  I  sought — a 
wretched  tumble-down  hovel,  with  a  partly  broken  window, 
through  which  a  shabby  array  of  second-hand  garments  were 
to  be  dimly  perceived,  strung  up  for  show  on  pieces  of  coarse 
twine.  It  was  one  of  those  dirty  dens  where  sailors,  return- 
ing from  long  voyages,  frequently  go  to  dispose  of  the  various 
trifles  they  hc*ve  picked  up  in  foreign  countries,  so  that  among 
the  forlorn  specimens  of  second-hand  wearing  apparel  many 
quaint  and  curious  objects  were  to  be  seen,  such  as  shells, 
branches  of  rough  coral,  strings  of  beads,  cups  and  dishes 
carved  out  of  cocoa-nut,  dried  gourds,  horns  of  animals,  fans, 
stuffed  parakeets,  and  old  coins — while  a  grotesque  wooden 
idol  peered  hideously  forth  from  between  the  stretched-out 
portions  of  a  pair  of  old  nankeen  trousers,  as  though  surveying 
the  miscellaneous  collection  in  idiotic  amazement.  An  aged 
man  sat  smoking  at  the  open  door  of  this  promising  habitation 
— a  true  specimen  of  a  Neapolitan  grown  old.  The  skin  of  his 
face  was  like  a  piece  of  brown  parchment  scored  all  over  with 
deep  furrows  and  wrinkles,  as  though  Time,  disapproving  of 
the  history  he  had  himself  penned  upon  it,  had  scratched  over 
and  blotted  out  all  records,  so  that  no  one  should  henceforth 
be  able  to  read  what  had  once  been  clear  writing.  The  only 
animation  left  in  him  seemed  to  have  concentrated  itself  in 
his  eyes,  which  were  black  and  bead-like,  and  roved  hither 
and  thither  with  a  glance  of  ever-restless  and  ever-suspicious 
inquiry.  He  saw  me  coming  toward  him,  but  he  pretended  to 
be  absorbed  in  a  profound  study  of  the  patch  of  blue  sky  that 
gleamed  between  the  closely  leaning  houses  of  the  narrow 


vendetta!  41 

street.  I  accosted  him — and  he  brought  his  gaze  swiftly  down 
to  my  level,  and  stared  at  me  with  keen  inquisitiveness. 

"  I  have  had  a  long  tramp,"  I  said,  briefly,  for  he  was  not  the 
kind  of  man  to  whom  I  could  explain  my  recent  terrible  ad- 
venture, "  and  I  have  lost  some  of  my  clothes  by  an  accident 
on  the  way.  Can  you  sell  me  a  suit?  Anything  will  do — I 
am  not  particular." 

The  old  man  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth. 

"  Do  you  fear  the  plague?"  he  asked. 

"  I  have  just  recovered  from  an  attack  of  it,"  I  replied, 
coolly. 

He  looked  at  me  attentively  from  head  to  foot,  and  then 
broke  into  a  low  chuckling  laugh. 

"Ha!  ha!"  he  muttered,  half  to  himself,  half  to  me. 
"Good — good!  Here  is  one  like  myself — not  afraid — not 
afraid !  We  are  not  cowards.  We  do  not  find  fault  with  the 
blessed  saints — they  send  the  plague.  The  beautiful  plague! 
— I  love  it!  I  buy  all  the  clothes  I  can  get  that  are  taken 
from  the  corpses — they  are  nearly  always  excellent  clothes. 
I  never  clean  them — I  sell  them  again  at  once — yes — yes! 
Why  not?  The  people  must  die — the  sooner  the  better!  I 
help  the  good  God  as  much  as  I  can."  And  the  old  blasphemer 
crossed  himself  devoutly. 

I  looked  down  upon  him  from  where  I  stood,  drawn  up  to 
my  full  height,  with  a  glance  of  disgust.  He  filled  me  with 
something  of  the  same  repulsion  I  had  felt  when  1  touched  the 
\innameable  Thing  that  fastened  on  my  neck  while  I  slept  in 
the  vault. 

"  Come !"  I  said,  somewhat  roughly,  "  will  you  sell  me  a 
suit  or  no?" 

"Yes,  yes!"  and  he  rose  stiffly  from  his  seat;  he  was  very 
short  of  stature,  and  so  bent  with  age  and  infirmity  that  he 
looked  more  like  the  crooked  bough  of  a  tree  than  a  man  as 
he  hobbled  before  me  into  his  dark  shop.  "  Come  inside, 
come  inside !  Take  your  choice ;  there  is  enough  here  to  suit 
all  tastes.  See  now,  what  would  you?  Behold  here  the  dress 
of  a  gentleman,  ah!  what  beautiful  cloth,  what  strong  wool! 
English  make?  Yes,  yes!  He  was  English  that  wore  it;  a 
big,  strong  milord,  that  drank  beer  and  brandy  like  water — 
and  rich — just  heaven! — how  rich!  But  the  plague  took  him; 
he  died  cursing  God,  and  calling  bravely  for  more  brandy. 
Ha,  ha !  a  fine  death — a  splendid  death !    His  landlord  sold  me 


42  vendetta! 

his  clothes  for  three  francs — one,  two,  three — but  you  must 
give  me  six;  that  is  fair  profit,  is  it  not?  And  I  am  old  and 
poor.     I  must  make  something  to  live  upon." 

I  threw  aside  the  tweed  suit  he  displayed  for  my  inspection. 
"Nay,"  I  said,  "I  care  nothing  for  the  plague,  but  find  me 
something  better  than  the  cast-off  clothing  of  a  brandy-soaked 
Englishman.  I  would  rather  wear  the  motley  garb  of  a  fellow 
who  played  the  fool  in  carnival." 

The  old  dealer  laughed  with  a  crackling  sound  in  his  with- 
ered throat,  like  the  rattling  of  stones  in  a  tin  pot.  "  Good, 
good!"  he  croaked.  "I  like  that,  I  like  that!  Thou  art  old, 
but  thou  art  merry.  That  pleases  me;  one  should  laugh 
Always.  Why  not?  Death  laughs;  you  never  see  a  solemn 
skull ;  it  laughs  always !" 

And  he  plunged  his  long  lean  fingers  into  a  deep  drawer  full 
of  miscellaneous  garments,  mumbling  to  himself  all  the  while. 
I  stood  beside  him  in  silence,  pondering  on  his  words,  "  Thou 
art  old,  but  merry."  What  did  he  mean  by  calling  me  old? 
He  must  be  blind,  I  thought,  or  in  his  dotage.  Suddenly  he 
looked  up. 

"  Talking  of  the  plague,"  he  said,  "  it  is  not  always  wise.  It 
did  a  foolish  thing  yesterday^ — a  very  foolish  thing.  It  took 
one  of  the  richest  men  in  the  neighbo'ihood,  young  too,  strong 
and  brave ;  he  looked  as  if  he  would  never  die.  The  plague 
touched  him  in  the  morning — before  sunset  he  was  nailed  up 
and  put  down  in  his  big  family  vault — a  cold  lodging,  and  less 
handsomely  furnished  than  his  grand  marble  villa  on  the 
heights  yonder.  When  I  heard  the  news  I  told  the  Madonna 
she  was  wicked.  Oh,  yes!  I  rated  her  soundly;  she  is  a 
woman,  and  capricious ;  a  good  scolding  brings  her  to  reason. 
Look  you !  I  am  a  friend  to  God  and  the  plague,  but  they 
both  did  a  stupid  thing  when  they  took  Count  Fabio  Romani." 

I  started,  but  quickly  controlled  myself  into  an  appearance 
of  indifference. 

"  Indeed !"  I  said,  carelessly.  "  And  pray  who  was  he  that 
he  should  not  deserve  to  die  as  well  as  other  people?" 

The  old  man  raised  himself  from  his  stooping  attitude,  and 
stared  at  me  with  his  keen  black  eyes. 

"Who  was  he?  who  was  he?"  he  cried,  in  a  shrill  tone. 
"  Oh,  he !  One  can  see  you  know  nothing  of  Naples.  You 
have  not  heard  of  the  rich  Romani?  See  you,  I  wished  him  to 
'•ve.     He  was  clever  and  bold,  but  I  did  not  grudge  him  that 


vendetta!  43 

— no,  he  was  good  to  the  poor;  he  gave  away  hundreds  of 
francs  in  charity.  I  have  seen  him  often — I  saw  him  married." 
And  here  his  parchment  face  screwed  itself  into  an  expression 
of  the  most  malignant  cruelty.  "  Pah !  I  hate  his  wife — a 
fair,  soft  thing,  like  a  white  snake !  I  used  to  watch  them 
both  from  the  corners  of  the  streets  as  they  drove  along  in 
their  fine  carriage,  and  I  wondered  how  it  would  all  end, 
whether  he  or  she  would  gain  the  victory  first.  I  wanted  him 
to  win;  I  would  have  helped  him  to  kill  her,  yes!  But  the 
saints  have  made  a  mistake  this  time,  for  he  is  dead,  and  that 
she-devil  has  all.  Oh,  yes!  God  and  the  plague  have  done 
a  foolish  thing  for  once." 

I  listened  to  the  old  wretch  with  deepening  aversion,  yet 
with  some  curiosity  too.  Why  should  he  hate  my  wife?  I 
thought,  unless,  indeed,  he  hated  all  youth  and  beauty,  as 
was  most  probably  the  case.  And  if  he  had  seen  me  as  often 
as  he  averred  he  must  know  me  by  sight.  How  was  it  then 
that  he  did  not  recognize  me  now?  Following  out  this 
thought,  I  said  aloud : 

"What  sort  of  looking  man  was  this  Count  Romani?  You 
say  he  was  handsome — was  he  tall  or  short — dark  or  fair?" 

Putting  back  his  straggling  gray  locks  from  his  forehead, 
the  dealer  stretched  out  a  yellow,  claw-like  hand,  as  though 
pointing  to  some  distant  vision. 

"  A  beautiful  man !"  he  exclaimed ;  "  a  man  good  for  the  eyes 
to  see !  As  straight  as  you  are — as  tall  as  you  are — as  broad 
as  you  are !  But  your  eyes  are  sunken  and  dim — his  were  full 
and  large  and  sparkling.  Your  face  is  drawn  and  pale — his 
was  of  a  clear  olive  tint,  round  and  flushed  with  health ;  and 
his  hair  was  glossy  black — ah!  as  jet-black,  my  friend,  as 
yours  is  snow-white !" 

I  recoiled  from  these  last  words  in  a  sort  of  terror;  they 
were  like  an  electric  shock!  Was  I  indeed  so  changed?  Was 
it  possible  that  the  horrors  of  a  night  in  the  vault  had  made 
such  a  dire  impression  upon  me?  My  hair  whitel — mirie?  I 
could  hardly  believe  it.  If  so,  perhaps  Nina  would  not  recog- 
nize me — she  might  be  terrified  at  my  aspect — Guido  himself 
might  have  doubts  of  my  identity.  Though,  for  that  matter, 
I  could  easily  prove  myself  to  be  indeed  Fabio  Romani — even 
if  I  had  to  show  the  vault  and  my  own  sundered  coffin.  While 
I  revolved  all  this  in  my  mind  the  old  man,  unconscious  of 
my  emotion,  went  on  with  his  mumbling  chatter. 


44  vendetta! 

"  Ah,  yes,  yes !  He  was  a  fine  fellow — a  strong  fellow,  I 
V^ed  to  rejoice  that  he  was  so  strong.  He  could  have  taken 
liiie  little  throat  of  his  wife  between  finger  and  thumb  and 
nipped  it — so !  and  she  would  have  told  no  more  lies.  I 
wanted  him  to  do  it — I  waited  for  it.  He  would  have  done  it 
surely,  had  he  lived.     That  is  why  I  am  sorry  he  died." 

Mastering  my  feelings  by  a  violent  effort,  I  forced  myself 
to  speak  calmly  to  this  malignant  old  brute. 

"  Why  do  you  hate  the  Countess  Romani  so  much?"  I  asked 
him  with  sternness.     "  Has  she  done  you  any  harm?" 

He  straightened  himself  as  much  as  he  was  able  and  looked 
me  full  in  the  eyes. 

"  See  you ! '  he  answered,  with  a  sort  of  leering  laugh  about 
the  corners  of  his  wicked  mouth.  "  I  will  tell  you  why  I  hate 
her — yes — I  will  tell  you,  because  you  are  a  man  and  strong. 
I  like  strong  men — they  are  sometimes  fooled  by  women,  it  is 
true — but  then  they  can  take  revenge.  I  was  strong  myself 
once.  And  you — you  are  old — but  you  love  a  jest — you  will 
understand.  The  Romani  woman  has  done  me  no  harm.  She 
laughed — once.  That  was  when  her  horses  knocked  me  down 
in  the  street.  I  was  hurt — but  I  saw  her  red  lips  widen  and 
her  white  teeth  glitter — she  has  a  baby  smile — the  people  will 
tell  you — so  innocent!  I  was  picked  up — her  carriage  drove 
on — her  husband  was  not  with  her — he  would  have  acted 
differently.  But  it  is  no  matter — I  tell  you  she  laughed — and 
then  I  saw  at  once  the  likeness." 

"  The  likeness !"  I  exclaimed  impatiently,  for  his  story  an- 
noyed me.     "  What  likeness?" 

"  Between  her  and  my  wife,"  the  dealer  replied,  fixing  his 
cruel  eyes  upon  me  with  increasing  intensity  of  regard.  "  Oh, 
yes !  I  know  what  love  is.  I  know  too  that  God  had  very 
little  to  do  with  the  making  of  women.  It  was  a  long  time 
before  even  He  could  find  the  Madonna.  Yes — yes,  I  know! 
I  tell  you  I  married  a  thing  as  beatitiful  as  a  morning  in 
jpringtime — with  a  little  head  that  seemed  to  droop  like  a 
iiower  under  its  weight  of  sunbeam  hair — and  eyes !  ah — like 
those  of  a  tiny  child  when  it  looks  up  and  asks  you  for  kisses. 
I  was  absent  once — I  returned  and  found  her  sleeping  tran- 
quilly— yes !  on  the  breast  of  a  black-browed  street-singer 
from  Venice — a  handsome  lad  enough  and  brave  as  a  young 
lion.  He  saw  me  and  sprung  at  my  throat— I  held  him 
down  and  knelt  upon   his  chest — sAe  woke  and  gazed  upon 


vendetta!  45 

us,  too  terrified  to  speak  or  scream — she  only  shivered 
and  made  a  little  moaning  sound  like  that  of  a  spoiled 
baby.  I  looked  down  into  her  prostrate  lover's  eyes  and 
smiled.  'I  will  not  hurt  you,*  I  said.  'Had  she  not  con- 
sented, you  could  not  have  gained  the  victory.  All  I  ask  of 
you  is  to  remain  here  for  a  few  moments  longer.'  He  stared, 
but  was  mute.  I  bound  him  hand  and  foot  so  that  he  could 
not  stir.  Then  I  took  my  knife  and  went  to  her.  Her  blue 
eyes  glared  wide — imploringly  she  turned  them  upon  me — and 
ever  she  wrung  her  small  hands  and  shivered  and  moaned.  I 
plunged  the  keen  bright  blade  deep  through  her  soft  white 
flesh — her  lover  cried  out  in  agony — her  heart's  blood  welled 
up  in  a  crimson  tide,  staining  with  a  bright  hue  the  white 
garments  she  wore ;  she  flung  up  her  arms — she  sunk  back  on 
her  pillows — dead.  I  drew  the  knife  from  her  body,  and  with 
it  cut  the  bonds  of  the  Venetian  boy.     I  then  gave  it  to  him. 

"'Take  it  as  a  remembrance  of  her,'  I  said.  'In  a  month 
she  would  have  betrayed  you  as  she  betrayed  me.'  " 

He  raged  like  a  madman.  He  rushed  out  and  called  the 
gendarmes.  Of  course  I  was  tried  for  murder — -JDUt  it  was  not 
murder — it  was  justice.  The  judge  found  extenuating  circum- 
stances. Naturally !  He  had  a  wife  of  his  own.  He  under- 
stood my  case.  Now  you  know  why  I  hate  that  dainty 
jeweled  woman  up  at  the  Villa  Romani.  She  is  just  like  that 
other  one — that  creature  I  slew — she  has  just  the  same  slow 
smile  and  the  same  child-like  eyes.  I  tell  you  again,  I  am 
sorry  her  husband  is  dead — it  vexes  me  sorely  to  think  of  it. 
For  he  would  have  killed  her  in  time — yes ! — of  that  I  am  quite 
sure !" 


CHAPTER  VI. 

I  LISTENED  to  his  narrative  with  a  pained  feeling  at  my 
heart,  and  a  shuddering  sensation  as  of  icy  cold  ran  through 
my  veins.  Why,  I  had  fancied  that  all  who  beheld  Nina  must, 
perforce,  love  and  admire  her.  True,  when  this  old  man  was 
accidentally  knocked  down  by  her  horses  (a  circumstance  she 
had  never  mentioned  to  me),  it  was  careless  of  her  not  to  stop 
and  make  inquiry  as  to  the  extent  of  his  injuries,  but  she  was 
young  and  thoughtless;  she  could  not  be  intentionally  heart- 
less.    I  was  horrified  to  think  that  she  should  have  made  such 


46  vendetta! 

an  enemy  as  even  this  aged  and  poverty-stricken  wretch ;  but 
I  said  nothing.  I  had  no  wish  to  betray  myself.  He  waited 
for  me  to  speak  and  grew  impatient  at  my  silence. 

"  Say  now,  my  friend !"  he  queried,  with  a  sort  of  childish 
eagerness,  "  did  I  not  take  a  good  vengeance?  God  himself 
could  not  have  done  better !" 

"  I  think  your  wife  deserved  her  fate,"  I  said,  curtly,  "  but  I 
can  not  say  I  admire  you  for  being  her  murderer." 

He  turned  upon  me  rapidly,  throwing  both  hands  above  his 
head  with  a  frantic  gesticulation.  His  voice  rose  to  a  kind  of 
muffled  shriek. 

"Murderer  you  call  me — ha!  ha!  that  is  good.  No,  no! 
She  murdered  7fie  !  I  tell  you  I  died  when  I  saw  her  asleep  in 
her  lover's  arms — she  killed  me  at  one  blow.  A  devil  rose  up 
in  my  body  and  took  swift  revenge ;  that  devil  is  in  me  now, 
a  brave  devil,  a  strong  devil !  That  is  why  I  do  not  fear  the 
plague ;  the  devil  in  me  frightens  away  death.  Some  day  it 
will  leave  me" — here  his  smothered  yell  sunk  gradually  to  a 
feeble,  weary  tone ;  "  yes,  it  will  leave  me  and  I  shall  find  a 
dark  place  wl^ere  I  can  sleep;  I  do  not  sleep  much  now."  He 
eyed  me  half  wistfully. 

"You  see,"  he  explained,  almost  gently,  "my  memory  is 
very  good,  and  when  one  thinks  of  many  things  one  cannot 
sleep.  It  is  many  years  ago,  but  every  night  I  see  her;  she 
comes  to  me  wringing  her  little  white  hands,  her  blue  eyes 
stare,  I  hear  her  short  moans  of  terror.  Every  night,  every 
night  I"  He  paused,  and  passed  his  hands  in  a  bewildered  way 
across  his  forehead.  Then,  like  a  man  suddenly  waking  for 
sleep,  he  stared  as  though  he  saw  me  now  for  the  first  time, 
and  broke  into  a  low  chuckling  laugh. 

"  What  a  thing,  what  a  thing  it  is,  the  memory !"  he  mut- 
tered. "Strange — strange!  See,  I  remembered  all  that,  and 
forgot  you !  But  I  know  what  you  want — a  suit  of  clothes — 
yes,  you  need  them  badly,  and  I  also  need  the  money  for 
them.  Ha,  ha!  And  you  will  not  have  the  fine  coat  of  Milord 
Inglese!  No,  no!  I  understand.  I  will  find  you  something; 
— patience,  patience !" 

And  he  began  to  grope  among  a  number  of  things  that  were 
thrown  in  a  confused  heap  at  the  back  of  the  shop.  While  in 
this  attitude  he  looked  so  gaunt  and  grim  that  he  reminded 
me  of  an  aged  vulture  stooping  over  carrion,  and  yet  there 
was  something  pitiable  about  him  too.     In  a  way  I  was  sorry 


VENDETTA !  47 

for  him ;  a  poor  half-witted  wretch,  whose  life  had  been  full  of 
such  gall  and  wormwood.  What  a  different  fate  was  his  to 
mine,  I  thought.  2  had  endured  but  one  short  night  of  agony ; 
how  trifling  it  seemed  compared  to  his  hourly  remorse  and 
suffering!  He  hated  Nina  for  an  act  of  thoughtlessness;  well, 
no  doubt  she  was  not  the  only  woman  whose  existence  an- 
noyed him ;  it  was  most  probable  that  he  was  at  enmity  with 
all  women.  I  watched  him  pityingly  as  he  searched  among 
the  worn-out  garments  which  were  his  stock-in-trade,  and 
wondered  why  Death,  so  active  in  smiting  down  the  strongest 
in  the  city,  should  have  thus  cruelly  passed  by  this  forlorn 
wreck  of  human  misery,  for  whom  the  grave  would  have 
surely  been  a  most  welcome  release  and  rest.  He  turned 
round  at  last  with  an  exulting  gesture. 

"  I  have  found  it !"  he  exclaimed.  "  The  very  thing  to  suit 
you.  You  are  perhaps  a  coral-fisher?  You  will  like  a  fisher- 
man's dress.  Here  is  one,  red  sash,  cap  and  all,  in  beautiful 
condition!  He  that  wore  it  was  about  your  height;  it  will  fit 
you  well  as  it  fitted  him ;  and,  look  you !  the  plague  is  not  in 
it ;  the  sea  has  soaked  through  and  through  it ;  it  smells  of  the 
sand  and  weed." 

He  spread  out  the  rough  garb  before  me.  I  glanced  at  it 
carelessly. 

"  Did  the  former  wearer  kill  his  wife?"  I  asked,  with  a  slight 
smile. 

The  old  rag-picker  shook  his  head  and  made  a  sign  with  his 
outspread  fingers  expressive  of  contempt. 

"  Not  he !     He  was  a  fool.     He  killed  himself." 

"  How  was  that?     By  accident  or  design?" 

"  Che!  Chi!  He  knew  very  well  what  he  was  doing.  It 
happened  only  two  months  since.  It  was  for  the  sake  of  a 
black-eyed  jade ;  she  lives  and  laughs  all  day  long  up  at 
Sorrento.  He  had  been  on  a  long  voyage ;  he  brought  her 
pearls  for  her  throat  and  coral  pins  for  her  hair.  She  had 
promised  to  marry  him.  He  had  just  landed;  he  met  her  on 
the  quay ;  he  offered  her  the  pearl  and  coral  trinkets.  She 
threw  them  back  and  told  him  she  was  tired  of  him.  Just 
that — nothing  more.  He  tried  to  soften  her;  she  raged  at  him 
like  a  tiger-cat.  Yes,  I  was  one  of  the  little  crowd  that  stood 
round  them  on  the  quay ;  I  saw  it  all.  Her  black  eyes  flashed, 
she  stamped  and  bit  her  lips  at  him,  her  full  bosom  heaved  as 
though  it  would  burst  her  laced  bodice.     She  was  only  a 


48  VENDETTA  f 

market-girl,  but  she  gave  herself  the  airs  of  a  queen.  'I  am 
tired  of  you!'  she  said  to  him.  'Go!  I  wish  to  see  you  no 
more. '  He  was  tall  and  well-made,  a  powerful  fellow ;  but  he 
staggered,  his  face  grew  pale,  his  lips  quivered.  He  bent  his 
head  a  little — turned — and  before  any  hand  could  stop  him  he 
sprung  from  the  edge  of  the  quay  into  the  waves ;  they  closed 
over  his  head,  for  he  did  not  try  to  swim ;  he  just  sunk  down, 
down,  like  a  stone.  Next  day  his  body  came  ashore,  and  I 
bought  his  clothes  for  two  francs ;  you  shall  have  them  for 
four." 

"  And  what  became  of  the  girl?"  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  she!  She  laughs  all  day  long,  as  I  told  you.  She  has 
a  new  lover  every  week.     What  should  she  care?" 

I  drew  out  my  ptarse.  "  I  will  take  this  suit,"  I  said.  "  You 
ask  four  francs ;  here  are  six,  but  for  the  extra  two  you  must 
show  me  some  private  corner  where  I  can  dress." 

"  Yes,  yes.  But  certainly !"  and  the  old  fellow  trembled  all 
over  with  avaricious  eagerness  as  I  counted  the  silver  pieces 
into  his  withered  palm.  "  Anything  to  oblige  a  generous 
stranger!  There  is  the  place  I  sleep  in;  it  is  not  much,  but 
there  is  a  mirror — her  mirror — the  only  thing  I  keep  of  hers ; 
come  this  way,  come  this  way !" 

And  stumbling  hastily  along,  almost  falling  over  the  dis- 
ordered bundles  of  clothing  that  lay  about  in  all  directions, 
he  opened  a  little  door  that  seemed  to  be  cut  in  the  wall,  and 
led  me  into  a  kind  of  close  cupboard,  smelling  most  vilely, 
and  furnished  with  a  miserable  pallet  bed  and  one  broken 
chair.  A  small  square  pane  of  glass  admitted  light  enough  to 
see  all  that  there  was  to  be  seen,  and  close  to  this  extempo- 
rized window  hung  the  mirror  alluded  to,  a  beautiful  thing  set 
in  silver  of  antique  workmanship,  the  costliness  of  which  I  at 
once  recognized,  though  into  the  glass  itself  I  dared  not  for 
the  moment  look.  The  old  man  showed  me  with  some  pride 
that  the  door  to  this  narrow  den  of  his  locked  from  within. 

"  I  made  the  lock  and  key,  and  fitted  it  all  myself,"  he  said. 
"Look  how  neat  and  strong!  Yes;  I  was  clever  once  at  all 
that  work — it  was  my  trade — till  that  morning  when  I  found 
her  with  the  singer  from  Venice;  then  I  forgot  all  I  used  to 
know — it  went  away  somehow,  I  could  never  understand  why. 
Here  is  the  fisherman's  suit;  you  can  take  your  time  to  put  it 
on;  fasten  the  door;  the  room  is  at  your  service." 

And  he  nodded  several  times  in  a  manner  that  was  meant  to 


VENDETTA!  49 

be  friendly,  and  left  me.  I  followed  his  advice  at  once  and 
locked  myself  in.  Then  I  stepped  steadily  to  the  mirror 
hanging  on  the  wall,  and  looked  at  my  own  reflection.  A  bit- 
ter pang  shot  through  me.  The  dealer's  sight  was  good,  he 
had  said  truly.  I  was  old)  If  twenty  years  of  suffering  had 
passed  over  my  head,  they  could  hardly  have  changed  me 
more  terribly.  My  illness  had  thinned  my  face  and  marked 
it  with  deep  lines  of  pain ;  my  eyes  had  retreated  far  back 
into  my  head,  while  a  certain  wildness  of  expression  in  them 
bore  witness  to  the  terrors  I  had  suffered  in  the  vault,  and,  to 
crown  all,  my  hair  was  indeed  perfectly  white.  I  understood 
now  the  alarm  of  the  man  who  had  sold  me  grapes  on  the 
highway  that  morning ;  my  appearance  was  strange  enough 
to  startle  any  one.  Indeed,  I  scarcely  recognized  myself. 
Would  my  wife,  would  Guido  recognize  me?  Almost  I  doubted 
it.  This  thought  was  so  painful  to  me  that  the  tears  sprung 
to  my  eyes.  I  brushed  them  away  in  haste.  "  Fy  on  thee, 
Fabio !  Be  a  man !"  I  said,  addressing  myself  angrily.  "  Of 
what  matter  after  all  whether  hairs  are  black  or  white?  What 
matter  how  the  face  changes,  so  long  as  the  heart  is  true?  For 
a  moment,  perhaps,  thy  love  may  grow  pale  at  sight  of  thee ; 
but  when  she  knows  of  thy  sufferings,  wilt  thou  not  be  dearer 
to  her  than  ever?  Will  not  one  of  her  soft  embraces  recom- 
pense thee  for  all  thy  past  anguish,  and  suffice  to  make  thee 
young  again?" 

And  thus  encouraging  my  sinking  spirits,  I  quickly  arrayed 
myself  in  the  Neapolitan  coral-fisher's  garb.  The  trousers 
were  very  loose,  and  were  provided  with  two  long  deep  pock- 
ets, convenient  receptacles,  which  easily  contained  the  leath- 
ern bags  of  gold  and  jewels  I  had  taken  from  the  brigands' 
coffin.  When  my  hasty  toilet  was  completed  I  took  another 
glance  at  the  mirror,  this  time  with  a  half  smile.  True,  I  was 
greatly  altered;  but  after  all  I  did  not  look  so  bad.  The 
fisherman's  picturesque  costume  became  me  well;  the  scarlet 
cap  sat  jauntily  on  the  snow-white  curls  that  clustered  so 
thickly  over  my  forehead,  and  the  consciousness  I  had  of  ap- 
proaching happiness  sent  a  little  of  the  old  fearless  luster 
back  into  my  sunken  eyes.  Besides,  I  knew  I  should  not 
always  have  this  care-worn  and  wasted  appearance;  rest,  and 
'>erhaps  a  change  of  air,  would  infallibly  restore  the  roundness 

)  my  face  and  the  freshness  to  my  complexion;  even  my 
,/hite  locks  might  return  to  their  pristine  color,  such  things 


50  VENDETTA! 

had  been ;  and  supposing  they  remained  white?  well ! — there 
were  many  who  would  admire  the  peculiar  contrast  between 
a  young  man's  face  and  an  old  man's  hair. 

Having  finished  dressing,  I  unlocked  the  door  of  the  stuffy 
little  cabin  and  called  the  old  rag-picker.  He  came  shuffling 
along  with  his  head  bent,  but  raising  his  eyes  as  he  approached 
me,  he  threw  up  his  hands  in  astonishment,  exclaiming: 

"  Santissima  Madonna !  But  you  are  a  fine  man — a  fine  man ! 
Eh,  eh!  Holy  Joseph!  What  height  and  breadth!  A  pity— 
a  pity  you  are  old;  you  must  have  been  strong  when  you  were 
young !" 

Half  in  joke,  and  half  to  humor  him  in  his  fancy  for  mere 
muscular  force,  I  rolled  up  the  sleeve  of  my  jacket  to  ths 
shoulder,  saying,  lightly: 

"Oh,  as  for  being  strong!  There  is  plenty  of  strength  in 
me  still,  you  see." 

He  stared ;  laid  his  yellow  fingers  on  my  bared  arm  with  a 
kind  of  ghoul-like  interest  and  wonder,  and  felt  the  muscles  of 
it  with  childish,  almost  maudlin,  admiration. 

"  Beautiful,  beautiful !"  he  mumbled.  "  Like  iron — just 
think  of  it !  Yes,  yes.  You  could  kill  anything  easily.  Ah ! 
I  used  to  be  like  that  once.  I  was  clever  at  sword-play.  I 
could,  with  well-tempered  steel,  cut  asunder  a  seven-times- 
folded  piece  of  silk  at  one  blow  without  fraying  out  a  thread. 
Yes,  as  neatly  as  one  cuts  butter!  You  could  do  that  too  if 
you  liked.  It  all  lies  in  the  arm — the  brave  arm  that  kills  at 
a  single  stroke." 

And  he  gazed  at  me  intently  with  his  small  blear  eyes  as 
though  anxious  to  know  more  of  my  character  and  temper- 
ament. I  turned  abruptly  from  him,  and  called  his  attention 
to  my  own  discarded  garments. 

"  See,"  I  said,  carelessly;  "  you  can  have  these,  though  they 
are  not  of  much  value.  And,  stay,  here  are  another  three 
francs  for  some  socks  and  shoes,  which  I  dare  say  you  can  find 
to  suit  me." 

He  clasped  his  hands  ecstatically,  and  poured  out  a  torrent 
of  thanks  and  praises  for  this  additional  and  unexpected  sum ; 
and,  protesting  by  all  the  saints  that  he  and  the  entire  contents 
of  his  shop  were  at  the  service  of  so  generous  a  stranger,  he 
at  once  produced  the  articles  1  asked  for.  I  put  them  on — and 
then  stood  up  thoroughly  equipped  and  ready  to  make  my 
way  back  to  my  own  home  when  I  chose.     But  I  had  resolved 


VENDETTA r  5  I 

on  one  thing.  Seeing  that  I  was  so  greatly  changed,  I  deter- 
mined not  to  go  to  the  Villa  Romani  by  daylight,  lest  I  should 
startle  ray  wife  too  suddenly.  Women  are  delicate ;  my  un- 
expected appearance  might  give  her  a  nervous  shock  which 
perhaps  would  have  serious  results.  I  would  wait  till  the  sun 
had  set,  and  then  go  up  to  the  house  by  a  back  way  I  knew  of. 
and  try  to  get  speech  with  one  of  the  servants.  I  might  even 
meet  my  friend  Guido  Ferarri,  and  he  would  break  the  joyful 
news  of  my  return  from  death  to  Nina  by  degrees,  and  also 
prepare  her  for  my  altered  looks.  While  these  thoughts  flitted 
rapidly  through  my  brain,  the  old  rag-picker  stood  near  me 
with  his  head  on  one  side  like  a  meditative  raven,  and  re- 
garded me  intently. 

"  Are  you  going  far?"  he  asked  at  last,  with  a  kind  of 
timidity. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered  him,  abruptly;  "  very  far." 

He  laid  a  detaining  hand  on  my  sleeve,  and  his  eyes  glit, 
tered  with  a  malignant  expression. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  muttered,  eagerly,  "  tell  me — I  will  keep  the 
secret.     Are  you  going  to  a  woman?" 

I  looked  down  upon  him,  half  in  disdain,  half  in  amusement. 

"  Yes!"  I  said,  quietly;  "  I  am  going  to  a  woman." 

He  broke  into  silent  laughter — hideous  laughter  that  con- 
torted his  visage  and  twisted  his  body  in  convulsive  writhings. 

I  glanced  at  him  in  disgust,  and  shaking  off  his  hand  from 
my  arm,  I  made  my  way  to  the  door  of  the  shop.  He  hobbled 
quickly  after  me,  wiping  away  the  moisture  that  his  inward 
merriment  had  brought  into  his  eyes. 

"  Going  to  a  woman!"  he  croaked.  "  Ha,  ha!  You  are  not 
the  first,  nor  will  you  be  the  last,  that  has  gone  so  I  Going  to 
a  woman!  that  is  well — that  is  good!  Go  to  her,  go!  You 
are  strong;  you  have  a  brave  arm!  Go  to  her;  find  her  out, 
and — kill  her!  Yes,  yes — you  will  be  able  to  do  it  easily — 
quite  easily!     Go  and  kill  her!" 

He  stood  at  his  low  door,  mouthing  and  pointing,  his  stunted 
figure  and  evil  face  reminding  me  of  one  of  Heinrich  Heine's 
dwarf  devils  who  are  depicted  as  piling  fire  on  the  heads  of 
the  saints.  I  bade  him  "  Good-day"  in  an  indifferent  tone,  but 
he  made  me  no  answer.  I  walked  slowly  away.  Looking 
back  once  I  saw  him  still  standing  on  the  threshold  of  his 
wretched  dwelling,  his  wicked  mouth  working  itself  into  all 
manner  of  grimaces,  while  with  his  crooked  fingers  he  made 


52  vendetta! 

signs  in  the  air  as  if  he  caught  an  invisible  something  and 
throttled  it.  I  went  on  down  the  street  and  out  of  it  into  the 
broader  thoroughfares,  with  his  last  words  ringing  in  my  ears, 
"  Go  and  kill  her  J  " 


CHAPTER  VII. 

That  day  seemed  very  long  to  me.  I  wandered  aimlessly 
about  the  city,  seeing  few  faces  that  I  knew,  for  the  wealthier 
inhabitants,  afraid  of  the  cholera,  had  either  left  the  place 
together  or  remained  closely  shut  within  their  own  houses. 
Everywhere  I  went  something  bore  witness  to  the  terrible 
ravages  of  the  plague.  At  almost  every  corner  I  met  a  funeral 
procession.  Once  I  came  upon  a  group  of  men  who  were 
standing  in  an  open  doorway  packing  a  dead  body  into  a 
coffin  too  small  for  it.  There  was  something  truly  revolting 
in  the  way  they  doubled  up  the  arms  and  legs  and  squeezed 
in  the  shoulders  of  the  deceased  man — one  could  hear  the 
bones  crack.  I  watched  the  brutal  proceedings  for  a  minute 
or  so,  and  then  I  said  aloud: 

"  You  had  better  make  sure  he  is  quite  dead." 
The  beccafnorti  looked  at  me  in  surprise ;  one  laughed  grimly 
and  swore :  "  By  the  body  of  God,  if  I  thought  he  were  not  I 
would  twist  his  accursed  neck  for  him !  But  the  cholera  never 
fails;  he  is  dead  for  certain — see !"  And  he  knocked  the  head 
of  the  corpse  to  and  fro  against  the  sides  of  the  coffin  with  no 
more  compunction  than  if  it  had  been  a  block  of  wood.  Sick- 
ened at  the  sight,  I  turned  away  and  said  no  more.  On  reach- 
ing one  of  the  more  important  thoroughfares  I  perceived 
several  knots  of  people  collected,  who  glanced  at  one  another 
with  eager  yet  shamed  faces,  and  spoke  in  low  voices.  A 
whisper  reached  my  ears,  "The  king!  the  king!"  All  heads 
were  turned  in  one  direction;  I  paused  and  looked  also. 
Walking  at  a  leisurely  pace,  accompanied  by  a  few  gentlemen 
of  earnest  mien  and  grave  deportment,  I  saw  the  fearless 
monarch,  Humbert  of  Italy — he  whom  his  subjects  delight  to 
honor.  He  was  making  a  round  of  visits  to  all  the  vilest  holes 
and  corners  of  the  city,  where  the  plague  raged  most  terribly: 
he  had  not  so  much  as  a  cigarette  in  his  mouth  to  ward  off  in- 
fection. He  walked  with  the  easy  and  assured  step  of  a  hero; 
his  face  was  somewhat  sad,  as  though  the  sufferings  of  his 


VENDETTA !  5  3 

people  had  pressed  heavily  upon  his  sympathetic  heart.  I 
bared  my  head  reverently  as  he  passed :  his  keen  kind  eyes 
lighted  on  me  with  a  smile. 

"A  subject  for  a  painting,  yon  white-haired  fisherman!"  I 
heard  him  say  to  one  of  his  attendants.  Almost  I  betrayed 
myself.  I  was  on  the  point  of  springing  forward  and  throwing 
myself  at  his  feet  to  tell  him  my  story.  It  seemed  to  me  both 
cruel  and  unnatural  that  he,  my  beloved  sovereign,  should 
pass  me  without  recognition — me,  to  whom  he  had  spoken  so 
often  and  so  cordially.  For  when  I  visited  Rome,  as  I  was  ac- 
customed to  do  annually,  there  were  few  more  welcome  guests 
at  the  balls  of  the  Quirinal  Palace  than  Count  Fabio  Romani. 
I  began  to  wonder  stupidly  who  Fabio  Romani  was ;  the  gay 
gallant  known  as  such  seemed  no  longer  to  have  any  existence 
— a  " tvhite-haired fisherman'  usurped  his  place.  But  though 
I  thought  these  things  I  refrained  from  addressing  the  king. 
Some  impulse,  however,  led  me  to  follow  him  at  a  respectful 
distance,  as  did  also  many  others.  His  majesty  strolled 
through  the  most  pestilential  streets  with  as  much  unconcern 
as  though  he  were  taking  his  pleasure  in  a  garden  of  roses ;  he 
stepped  quietly  into  the  dirtiest  hovels  where  lay  both  dead 
and  dying ;  he  spoke  words  of  kindly  encouragement  to  the 
grief-stricken  and  terrified  mourners,  who  stared  through  their 
tears  at  the  monarch  with  astonishment  and  gratitude  ;  silver 
and  gold  were  gently  dropped  into  the  hands  of  the  suffering 
poor,  and  the  very  pressing  cases  received  the  royal  benefac- 
tor's personal  attention  and  immediate  relief.  Mothers  with 
infants  in  their  arms  knelt  to  implore  the  king's  blessing — 
which  to  pacify  them  he  gave  with  a  modest  hesitation,  as 
though  he  thought  himself  unworthy,  and  yet  with  a  parental 
tenderness  that  was  infinitely  touching.  One  wild-eyed,  black- 
haired  girl  flung  herself  down  on  the  ground  right  in  the  king's 
path ;  she  kissed  his  feet,  and  then  sprung  erect  with  a  gesture 
of  triumph. 

"  I  am  saved!"  she  cried;  "  the  plague  can  not  walk  in  the 
same  road  with  the  king !" 

Humbert  smiled,  and  regarded  her  somewhat  as  an  indulgent 
father  might  regard  a  spoiled  daughter;  but  he  said  nothing, 
and  passed  on.  A  cluster  of  men  and  women  standing  at  the 
open  door  of  one  of  the  poorest-looking  houses  in  the  street 
next  attracted  the  monarch's  attention.  There  was  some 
noisy  argument  going  on ;  two  or  three  beccamorti  were  loudly 


54  VENDETTA  1 

discussing  together  and  swearing  profusely — some  women 
were  crying  bitterly,  and  in  the  center  of  the  excited  group  a 
coffin  stood  on  end  as  though  waiting  for  an  occupant.  One 
of  the  gentlemen  in  attendance  on  the  king  preceded  him  and 
announced  his  approach,  whereupon  the  loud  clamor  of  tongues 
ceased,  the  men  bared  their  heads,  and  the  women  checked 
their  sobs. 

"  What  is  wrong  here,  my  friends?"  the  monarch  asked  with 
exceeding  gentleness. 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment ;  the  beccamorti  looked  sul- 
len and  ashamed.  Then  one  of  the  women  with  a  fat  good- 
natured  face  and  eyes  rimmed  redly  round  with  weeping, 
elbowed  her  way  through  the  little  throng  to  the  front  and 
spoke. 

"  May  the  Holy  Virgin  and  saints  bless  Your  Majesty!"  she 
cried,  in  shrill  accents.  "  And  as  for  what  is  wrong,  it  would 
soon  be  right  if  those  shameless  pigs,"  pointing  to  the 
beccamorti,  "  would  let  us  alone.  They  would  kill  a  man  rather 
than  wait  an  hour — one  little  hour !  The  girl  is  dead.  Your 
Majesty — and  Giovanni,  poor  lad!  will  not  leave  her;  he  has 
his  two  arms  round  her  tight — Holy  Virgin ! — think  of  it !  and 
she  a  cholera  corpse — and  do  what  we  can,  he  will  not  be 
parted  from  her,  and  they  seek  her  body  for  the  burial.  And 
if  we  force  him  away,  povcrino,  he  will  lose  his  head  for  cer- 
tain. One  little  hour.  Your  Majesty,  just  one,  and  the  rever- 
end father  will  come  and  persuade  Giovanni  better  than  we 
can." 

The  king  raised  his  hand  with  a  slight  gesture  of  command 
— the  little  crowd  parted  before  him — and  he  entered  the 
miserable  dwelling  wherein  lay  the  corpse  that  was  the  cause 
of  all  the  argument.  His  attendants  followed ;  I,  too,  availed 
myself  of  a  corner  in  the  doorway.  The  scene  disclosed  was 
so  terribly  pathetic  that  few  could  look  upon  it  without 
emotion — Humbert  of  Italy  himself  uncovered  his  head  and 
stood  silent.  On  a  poor  pallet  bed  lay  the  fair  body  of  a  girl 
in  her  first  youth,  her  tender  loveliness  as  yet  untouched  even 
by  the  disfiguring  marks  of  the  death  that  had  overtaken  her. 
One  would  have  thought  she  slept  had  it  not  been  for  the 
rigidity  of  her  stiffened  limbs  and  the  wax-like  pallor  of  her 
face  and  hands.  Right  across  her  form,  almost  covering  it 
from  view,  a  man  lay  prone,  as  though  he  had  fallen  there 
lifeless — indeed  he  might  have  been  dead  also  for  any  sign  he 


vendetta!  55 

showed  to  the  contrary.  His  arms  were  closed  firmly  round 
the  girl's  corpse — his  face  was  hidden  from  view  on  the  cold 
breast  that  would  no  more  respond  to  the  warmth  of  his 
caresses.  A  straight  beam  of  sunlight  shot  like  a  golden 
spear  into  the  dark  little  room  and  lighted  up  the  whole  scene 
— the  prostrate  figures  on  the  bed — the  erect  form  of  the 
compassionate  king,  and  the  grave  and  anxious  faces  of  the 
little  crowd  of  people  who  stood  around  him.  | 

"  See !  that  is  the  way  he  has  been  ever  since  last  night 
when  she  died,"  whispered  the  woman  who  had  before  spoken; 
"  and  his  hands  are  clinched  round  her  like  iron — one  can  not 
move  a  finger !" 

The  king  advanced.  He  touched  the  shoulder  of  the  un- 
happy lover.  His  voice,  modulated  to  an  exquisite  softness, 
struck  on  the  ears  of  the  listeners  like  a  note  of  cheerful 
music, 

"  Figlio  mior 

There  was  no  answer.  The  women,  touched  by  the  simple 
endearing  words  of  the  monarch,  began  to  sob,  though  gently, 
and  even  the  men  brushed  a  few  drops  from  their  eyes. 
Again  the  king  spoke. 

"  Figlio  miol  I  am  your  king.  Have  you  no  greeting  for 
me?" 

The  man  raised  his  head  from  its  pillow  on  the  breast  of  the 
beloved  corpse  and  stared  vacantly  at  the  royal  speaker.  His 
haggard  face,  tangled  hair  and  wild  eyes  gave  him  the  ap- 
pearance of  one  who  had  long  wandered  in  a  labyrinth  of 
frightful  visions  from  which  there  was  no  escape  but  self- 
murder. 

"  Your  hand,  my  son !"  resumed  the  king  in  a  tone  of  soldier- 
like authority. 

Very  slowly — very  reluctantly — as  though  he  were  forced 
to  the  action  by  some  strange  magnetic  influence  which  he 
had  no  power  to  withstand,  he  loosened  his  right  arm  from  the 
dead  form  it  clasped  so  pertinaciously,  and  stretched  forth  the 
hand  as  commanded.  Humbert  caught  it  firmly  within  his 
own  and  held  it  fast — then  looking  the  poor  fellow  full  in  the 
face,  he  said  with  grave  steadiness  and  simplicity: 

"  There  is  no  death  in  love,  my  friend!" 

The  young  man's  eyes  met  his — his  set  mouth  softened — 
and  wresting  his  hand  passionately  from  that  of  the  king,  he 
broke  into  a  passion  of  weeping.     Humbert  at  once  placed  a 


56  VENDETTA ! 

protecting  arm  round  him,  and  with  the  assistance  of  one  of 
his  attendants  raised  him  from  the  bed,  and  led  him  unresist- 
ingly away,  as  passively  obedient  as  a  child,  though  sobbing 
convulsively  as  he  went.  The  rush  of  tears  had  saved  his 
reason,  and  most  probably  his  life.  A  murmur  of  enthusiastic 
applause  greeted  the  good  king  as  he  passed  through  the  little 
throng  of  persons  who  had  witnessed  what  had  taken  place. 
Acknowledging  it  with  a  quiet  unaffected  bow,  he  left  the 
house,  and  signed  to  the  beccamorti,  who  still  waited  outside, 
that  they  were  now  free  to  perform  their  melancholy  office. 
He  then  went  on  his  way  attended  by  more  heartfelt  blessings 
and  praises  than  ever  fell  to  the  lot  of  the  proudest  conqueror 
returning  with  the  spoils  of  a  hundred  battles.  I  looked  after 
his  retreating  figure  till  I  could  see  it  no  more — I  felt  that  I 
had  grown  stronger  for  the  mere  presence  of  a  hero — a  man 
who  indeed  was  "  every  inch  a  king."  I  am  a  royalist — yes. 
Governed  by  such  a  sovereign,  few  men  of  calm  reason  would 
be  otherwise.  But  royalist  though  I  am,  I  would  assist  in 
bringing  about  the  dethronement  and  death  of  a  mean  tyrant, 
were  he  crowned  king  a  hundred  times  over!  Few  monarchs 
are  like  Humbert  of  Italy — even  now  my  heart  warms  when  I 
think  of  him — in  all  the  distraction  of  my  sufferings,  his  figure 
stands  out  like  a  supreme  embodied  Beneficent  Force  sur- 
rounded by  the  clear  light  of  unselfish  goodness — a  light  in 
which  Italia  suns  her  fair  face  and  smiles  again  with  the 
old  sweet  smile  of  her  happiest  days  of  high  achievement — days 
in  which  her  children  were  great,  simply  because  they  were 
earnest.  The  fault  of  all  modern  labor  lies  in  the  fact  that 
there  is  no  heart  in  anything  we  do — we  seldom  love  our  work 
for  work's  sake — we  perform  it  solely  for  what  we  can  get  by 
it.  Therein  lies  the  secret  of  failure.  Friends  will  scarcely 
serve  each  other  unless  they  can  also  serve  their  own  interest 
— true,  there  are  exceptions  to  this  rule,  but  they  are  deemed 
fools  for  their  pains. 

As  soon  as  the  king  disappeared  I  also  left  the  scene  of  the 
foregoing  incident.  I  had  a  fancy  to  visit  the  little  restaurant 
where  I  had  been  taken  ill,  and  after  some  trouble,  I  found  it. 
The  door  stood  open.  I  saw  the  fat  landlord,  Pietro,  polish- 
ing his  glasses  as  though  he  had  never  left  off;  and  there  in 
the  same  comer  was  the  very  wooden  bench  on  which  I  had 
lain — where  I  had — as  was  generally  supposed — died.  I 
Stepped  in.     The  landlord  looked  up  and  bade  me  good-day. 


vendetta!  57 

I  returned  his  salutation,  and  ordered  some  coffee  and  rolls  of 
bread.  Seating  myself  carelessly  at  one  of  the  little  tables  I 
turned  over  the  newspaper,  while  he  bustled  about  in  haste  to 
serve  me.  As  he  dusted  and  rubbed  up  a  cup  and  saucer  for 
^y  use,  he  said,  briskly: 
'You  have  had  a  long  voyage,  atnico?  And  successful 
tishing?" 

For  a  moment  I  was  confused  and  knew  not  what  to  answer, 
but  gathering  my  wits  together  I  smiled  and  answered  readily 
in  the  affirmative. 

"  And  you?"  I  said,  gayly.     "  How  goes  the  cholera?" 

The  landlord  shook  his  head  dolefully. 

"  Holy  Joseph!  do  not  speak  of  it.  The  people  die  like  flies 
in  a  honey-pot.  Only  yesterday — body  of  Bacchus! — who 
would  have  thought  it?" 

And  he  sighed  deeply  as  he  poured  out  the  steaming  coffee, 
and  shook  his  head  more  sorrowfully  than  before. 

"  Why,  what  happened  yesterday?"  I  asked,  though  I  knew 
perfectly  well  what  he  was  going  to  say ;  "  I  am  a  stranger  in 
Naples,  and  empty  of  news." 

The  perspiring  Pietro  laid  a  fat  thumb  on  the  marble  top  of 
the  table,  and  with  it  traced  a  pattern  meditatively. 

"  You  never  heard  of  the  rich  Count  Romani?"  he  inquired. 

I  made  a  sign  in  the  negative,  and  bent  my  face  over  my 
coffee-cup. 

"Ah,  well!"  he  went  on  with  a  half  groan,  "it  does  not 
matter — there  is  no  Count  Romani  any  more.  It  is  all  gone — 
finished !  But  he  was  rich — as  rich  as  the  king,  they  say — yet 
see  how  low  the  saints  brought  him !  Fra  Cipriano  of  the 
Benedictines  carried  him  in  here  yesterday  morning — he  was 
struck  by  the  plague — in  five  hours  he  was  dead," — here  the 
landlord  caught  a  mosquito  and  killed  it — "  ah !  as  dead  as 
that  zinzara!  Yes,  he  lay  dead  on  that  very  wooden  bench 
opposite  to  you.  They  buried  him  before  sunset.  It  is  like 
a  bad  dream !" 

I  affected  to  be  deeply  engrossed  with  the  cutting  and 
spreading  of  my  roll  and  butter. 

"I  see  nothing  particular  about   it,"  I   said,  indifferently. 

.'hat  he  was  rich  is  nothing — rich  and  poor  must  die  alike." 

■*  And  that  is  true,  very  true,"  assented  Pietro,  with  another 
groan,  "  for  not  all  his  poverty  could  save  the  blessed 
Cipriano." 


58  VENDETTA 1  ' 

I  Started,  but  quickly  controlled  myself. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  I  asked,  as  carelessly  as  I  could. 
"  Are  you  talking  of  some  saint?" 

"  Well,  if  he  were  not  canonized  he  deserves  to  be,"  replied 
the  landlord ;  "  I  speak  of  the  holy  Benedictine  father  who 
brought  hither  the  Count  Romani  in  a  dying  condition.  Ah ! 
little  he  knew  how  soon  the  good  God  would  call  him 
himself!"  I 

I  felt  a  sickening  sensation  at  my  heart. 

"  Is  he  dead?"  I  exclaimed. 

"  Dead  as  the  martyrs !"  answered  Pietro.  "  He  caught  the 
plague,  I  suppose,  from  the  count,  for  he  was  bending  over 
him  to  the  last.  Ay,  and  he  sprinkled  holy  water  over  the 
corpse,  and  laid  his  own  crucifix  upon  it  in  the  coffin.  Then 
up  he  went  to  the  Villa  Romani,  taking  with  him  the  count's 
trinkets,  his  watch,  ring,  and  cigar-case — and  nothing  would 
satisfy  him  but  that  he  should  deliver  them  himself  to  the 
young  contessa,  telling  her  how  her  husband  died." 

"My  poor  Nina!"  I  thought.  "Was  she  much  grieved?"  I 
inquired,  with  a  vague  curiosity. 

"  How  do  I  know?"  said  the  landlord,  shrugging  his  bulky 
shoulders.  "  The  reverend  father  said  nothing,  save  that  she 
swooned  away.  But  what  of  that?  Women  swoon  at  every- 
thing— from  a  mouse  to  a  corpse.  As  I  said,  the  good  Cipriano 
attended  the  count's  burial — and  he  had  scarce  returned  from 
it  when  he  was  seized  with  the  illness.  And  this  morning  he 
died  at  the  monastery — may  his  soul  rest  in  peace !  I  heard 
the  news  only  an  hour  ago.  Ah !  he  was  a  holy  man !  He  has 
promised  me  a  warm  corner  in  Paradise,  and  I  know  he  will 
keep  his  word  as  truly  as  St.  Peter  himself." 

I  pushed  away  the  rest  of  my  meal  untasted.  The  food 
choked  me.  I  could  have  shed  tears  for  the  noble,  patient 
life  thus  self-sacrificed.  One  hero  the  less  in  this  world  of 
unheroic,  uninspired  persons!  I  sat  silent,  lost  in  sorrowful 
thought.     The  landlord  looked  at  me  curiously. 

"The  coffee  does  not  please  you?"  he  said  at  last.  "You 
have  no  appetite?" 

I  forced  a  smile. 

"  Nay — your  words  would  take  the  edge  off  the  keenest 
appetite  ever  born  of  the  breath  of  the  sea.  Truly  Naples 
affords  but  sorry  entertainment  to  a  stranger ;  is  there  naught 
to  hear  but  stories  of  the  dying  and  the  dead?" 


vendetta!  59 

Pietro  put  on  an  air  that  was  almost  apologetic. 

"  Well,  truly !"  he  answered,  resignedly — "  very  little  else. 
But  what  would  you,  amico  ?  It  is  the  plague  and  the  will  of 
God." 

As  he  said  the  last  words  my  gaze  was  caught  and  riveted 
by  the  figure  of  a  man  strolling  leisurely  past  the  door  of  the 
caf/.  It  was  Guido  Ferrari — my  friend !  I  would  have  rushed 
out  to  speak  to  him — but  something  in  his  look  and  manner 
checked  the  impulse  as  it  rose  in  me.  He  was  walking  very 
slowly,  smoking  a  cigar  as  he  went ;  there  was  a  smile  on  his 
face,  and  in  his  coat  he  wore  a  freshly  gathered  rose — a  Gloire 
de  France,  similar  to  those  that  grew  in  such  profusion  on  the 
upper  terrace  of  my  villa.  I  stared  at  him  as  he  passed — my 
feelings  underwent  a  kind  of  shock.  He  looked  perfectly 
happy  and  tranquil,  happier  indeed  than  ever  I  remembered 
to  have  seen  him,  and  yet — and  yet,  according  to  his  knowl- 
edge, I,  his  best  friend,  had  died  only  yesterday!  With  this 
sorrow  fresh  upon  him,  he  could  smile  like  a  man  going  to  a 
festa,  and  wear  a  coral-pink  rose,  which  surely  was  no  sign  of 
mourning !  For  one  moment  I  felt  hurt,  the  next  I  laughed 
at  my  own  sensitiveness.  After  all,  what  of  the  smile,  what 
of  the  rose?  A  man  could  not  always  be  answerable  for  the 
expression  of  his  countenance,  and  as  for  the  flower,  he  might 
have  gathered  it  en  passant,  without  thinking,  or  what  was 
still  more  likely,  the  child  Stella  might  have  given  it  to  him, 
in  which  case  he  would  have  worn  it  to  please  her.  He  dis- 
played no  badge  of  mourning.  True ! — but  then  consider — 
I  had  only  died  yesterday!  There  had  been  no  time  to  pro- 
cure all  those  outward  appurtenances  of  woe  which  social 
customs  rendered  necessary,  but  which  were  no  infallible  sign 
of  the  heart's  sincerity.  Satisfied  with  my  own  self-reason- 
ing I  made  no  attempt  to  follow  Guido  in  his  walk — I  let  him 
go  on  his  way  unconscious  of  my  existence.  I  would  wait,  I 
thought,  till  the  evening — then  everything  would  be  ex- 
plained. 

I  turned  to  the  landlord.     "  How  much  to  pay?"  I  asked. 

"What  you  will,  amico,"  \iQ  replied — "I  am  never  hard  on 
the  fisher  folk — but  times  are  bad,  or  you  would  be  welcome 
to  a  breakfast  for  nothing.  Many  and  many  a  day  have  I  done 
as  much  for  men  of  your  craft,  and  the  blessed  Cipriano  who 
is  gone  used  to  say  that  St.  Peter  would  remember  me  for  it. 
It  is  true  the  Madonna  gives  a  special  blessing  if  one  looks 


60  VENDETTA I 

after  the  fishers,  because  all  the  holy  apostles  were  of  the 
trade ;  and  I  would  be  loath  to  lose  her  protection — yet " 

I  laughed  and  tossed  him  a  franc.  He  pocketed  it  at  once 
and  his  eyes  twinkled. 

"  Though  you  have  not  taken  half  a  franc's  worth,"  he  ad- 
mitted, with  an  honesty  very  unusual  in  a  Neapolitan — "  but 
the  saints  will  make  up  it  to  you,  never  fear!" 

"I  am  sure  of  that!"  I  said,  gayly.  "  Addio,  my  friend! 
Prosperity  to  you  and  our  Lady's  favor!" 

This  salutation,  which  I  knew  to  be  a  common  one  with 
Sicilian  mariners,  the  good  Pietro  responded  to  with  amiable 
heartiness,  wishing  me  luck  on  my  next  voyage.  He  then 
betook  himself  anew  to  the  polishing  of  his  glasses — and  I 
passed  the  rest  of  the  day  in  strolling  about  the  least  fre- 
quented streets  of  the  city,  and  longing  impatiently  for  the 
crimson  glory  of  the  sunset,  which,  like  a  wide  flag  of  triumph, 
was  to  be  the  signal  of  my  safe  return  to  love  and  happiness. 


CHAPTER  Vni. 

It  came  at  last,  the  blessed,  the  longed-for  evening.  A  soft 
breeze  sprung  up,  cooling  the  burning  air  after  the  heat  of  the 
day,  and  bringing  with  it  the  odors  of  a  thousand  flowers.  A 
regal  glory  of  shifting  colors  blazed  on  the  breast  of  heaven — 
the  bay,  motionless  as  a  mirror,  reflected  all  the  splendid  tints 
with  a  sheeny  luster  that  redoubled  their  magnificence. 
Pricked  in  every  vein  by  the  stinging  of  my  own  desires,  I  yet 
restrained  myself;  I  waited  till  the  sun  sank  below  the  glassy 
waters— till  the  pomp  and  glow  attending  its  departure  had 
paled  into  those  dim,  ethereal  hues  which  are  like  delicate 
draperies  fallen  from  the  flying  forms  of  angels— till  the  yel- 
low rim  of  the  round  full  moon  rose  languidly  on  the  edge  of 
the  horizon— and  then  keeping  back  my  eagerness  no  longer, 
I  took  the  well-known  road  ascending  to  the  Villa  Romani. 
My  heart  beat  high — my  limbs  trembled  with  excitement — my 
steps  were  impatient  and  precipitate — never  had  the  way 
seemed  so  long.  At  last  I  reached  the  great  gateway— it  was 
locked  fast — its  sculptured  lions  looked  upon  me  frowningly. 
I  heard  the  splash  and  tinkle  of  the  fountains  within,  the 
scents  of  the  roses  and  myrtle  were  wafted  toward  me  with 


vendetta!  6 I 

every  breath  I  drew.  Home  at  last!  I  smiled — my  whole 
frame  quivered  with  expectancy  and  delight.  It  was  not  my 
intention  to  seek  admission  by  the  principal  entrance — I  con- 
tented myself  with  one  long,  loving  look,  and  turned  to  the 
left,  where  there  was  a  small  private  gate  leading  into  an 
avenue  of  ilex  and  pine,  interspersed  with  orange-trees.  This 
was  a  favorite  walk  of  mine,  partly  on  account  of  its  pleasant 
shade  even  in  the  hottest  noon — partly  because  it  was  seldom 
frequented  by  any  member  of  the  household  save  myself. 
Guido  occasionally  took  a  turn  with  me  there,  but  I  was  more 
often  alone,  and  I  was  fond  of  pacing  up  and  down  in  the 
shadow  of  the  trees,  reading  some  favorite  book,  or  giving 
myself  up  to  the  dolce  far  niente  of  my  own  imaginings.  The 
avenue  led  round  to  the  back  of  the  villa,  and  as  I  now 
entered  it,  I  thought  I  would  approach  the  house  cautiously 
by  this  means  and  get  private  speech  with  Assunta,  the  nurse 
who  had  charge  of  little  Stella,  and  who  was  moreover  an  old 
and  tried  family  servant,  in  whose  arms  my  mother  had 
breathed  her  last. 

The  dark  trees  rustled  solemnly  as  I  stepped  quickly  yet 
softly  along  the  familiar  moss-grown  path.  The  place  was 
very  still — sometimes  the  nightingales  broke  into  a  bubbling 
torrent  of  melody,  and  then  were  suddenly  silent,  as  though 
overawed  by  the  shadows  of  the  heavy  interlacing  boughs, 
through  which  the  moonlight  flickered,  casting  strange  and  fan* 
tastic  patterns  on  the  ground.  A  cloud  of  lucciole  broke  from  a 
thicket  of  laurel,  and  sparkled  in  the  air  like  gems  loosened 
from  a  queen's  crown.  Faint  odors  floated  about  me,  shaken 
from  orange  boughs  and  trailing  branches  of  white  jasmine. 
I  hastened  on,  my  spirits  rising  higher  the  nearer  I  approached 
my  destination.  I  was  full  of  sweet  anticipation  and  passion- 
ate longing — I  yearned  to  clasp  my  beloved  Nina  in  my  arms 
— to  see  her  lovely  lustrous  eyes  looking  fondly  into  mine — I 
was  eager  to  shake  Guido  by  the  hand — and  as  for  Stella,  I 
knew  the  child  would  be  in  bed  at  that  hour,  but  still,  I 
thought,  I  must  have  her  wakened  to  see  me ;  I  felt  that  my 
happiness  would  not  be  complete  till  I  had  kissed  her  little 
cherub  face,  and  caressed  those  clustering  curls  of  hers  that 
were  like  spun  gold.  Hush — hush!  What  was  that?  I 
stopped  in  my  rapid  progress  as  though  suddenly  checked  by 
an  invisible  hand.  I  listened  with  strained  ears.  That  sound 
— was  it  not  a  rippling  peal  of  gay  sweet  laughter?    A  shiver 


62  VENDETTA; 

shook  me  from  head  to  foot.  It  was  my  wife's  laugh — I  knew 
the  silvery  chime  of  it  well !  My  heart  sunk  coldly — I  paused 
irresolute.  She  could  laugh  then  like  that,  while  she  thought 
me  lying  dead — dead  and  out  of  her  reach  forever !  All  at 
once  I  perceived  the  glimmer  of  a  white  robe  through  the 
trees;  obeying  my  own  impulse,  I  stepped  softly  aside — I  hid 
behind  a  dense  screen  of  foliage  through  which  I  could  see 
without  being  seen.  The  clear  laugh  rang  out  once  again  on 
the  stillness — its  brightness  pierced  my  brain  like  a  sharp 
sword !  She  was  happy — she  was  even  merry — she  wandered 
here  in  the  moonlight  joyous-hearted,  while  I — I  had  expected 
to  find  her  close  shut  within  her  room,  or  else  kneeling  before 
the  Mater  Dolorosa  in  the  little  chapel,  praying  for  my  soul's 
rest,  and  mingling  her  prayers  with  her  tears!  Yes — I  had 
expected  this — we  men  are  such  fools  when  we  love  women ! 
Suddenly  a  terrible  thought  struck  me.  Had  she  gone  mad? 
Had  the  shock  and  grief  of  my  so  unexpected  death  turned 
her  delicate  brain?  Was  she  roaming  about,  poor  child,  like 
Ophelia,  knowing  not  whither  she  went,  and  was  her  apparent 
gayety  the  fantastic  mirth  of  a  disordered  brain?  I  shuddered 
at  the  idea — and  bending  slightly  apart  the  boughs  behind 
which  I  was  secreted,  I  looked  out  anxiously.  Two  figures 
were  slowly  approaching — my  wife  and  my  friend,  Guido 
Ferrari.  "Well — there  was  nothing  in  that — it  was  as  it  should 
be — was  not  Guido  as  my  brother?  It  was  almost  his  duty  to 
console  and  cheer  Nina  as  much  as  lay  in  his  power.  But 
stay !  stay !  did  I  see  aright — was  she  simply  leaning  on  his 
arm  for  support — or — a  fierce  oath,  that  was  almost  a  cry  of 
torture,  broke  from  my  lips!  Oh,  would  to  God  I  had  died! 
Would  to  God  I  had  never  broken  open  the  coffin  in  which  I 
lay  at  peace !  What  was  death — what  were  the  horrors  of  the 
vault — what  was  anything  I  had  suffered  to  the  anguish  that 
racked  me  now?  The  memory  of  it  to  this  day  burns  in  ray 
brain  like  inextinguishable  fire,  and  my  hand  involuntarily 
clinches  itself  in  an  effort  to  beat  back  the  furious  bitterness 
of  that  moment !  I  know  not  how  I  restrained  the  murderous 
ferocity  that  awoke  within  me — how  I  forced  myself  to  remain 
motionless  and  silent  in  my  hiding-place.  But  I  did.  I 
watched  the  miserable  comedy  out  to  its  end.  I  looked 
dumbly  on  at  my  own  betrayal !  I  saw  my  honor  stabbed  to 
the  death  by  those  whom  I  most  trusted,  and  yet  I  gave  no 
sign !    They — Guido  Ferrari  and  my  wife — came  so  close  to 


vendetta!  63 

my  hiding-place  that  I  could  note  every  gesture  and  hear  every 
word  they  uttered.  They  paused  within  three  steps  of  me — 
his  arm  encircled  her  waist — hers  was  thrown  carelessly  around 
his  neck — her  head  rested  on  his  shoulder.  Even  so  had  she 
walked  with  me  a  thousand  times!  She  was  dressed  in  pure 
white  save  for  one  spot  of  deep  color  near  her  heart — a  red 
rose,  as  red  as — blood.  It  was  pinned  there  with  a  diamond 
pin  that  flashed  in  the  moonlight.  I  thought  wildly  that  in- 
stead of  that  rose,  there  should  be  blood  indeed — instead  of 
a  diamond  pin  there  should  be  the  good  steel  of  a  straight 
dagger !  But  I  had  no  weapon — I  stared  at  her,  dry-eyed  and 
mute.  She  looked  lovely — exquisitely  lovely !  No  trace  of 
grief  marred  the  fairness  of  her  face — her  eyes  were  as  lan- 
guidly limpid  and  tender  as  ever — her  lips  were  parted  in  the 
child-like  smile  that  was  so  sweet — so  innocently  trustful! 
She  spoke — ah,  Heaven !  the  old  bewitching  music  of  her  low 
voice  made  my  heart  leap  and  my  brain  reel. 

"  You  foolish  Guido !"  she  said,  in  dreamily  amused  accents. 
"  What  would  have  happened,  I  wonder,  if  Fabio  had  not  died 
so  opportunely?" 

I  waited  eagerly  for  the  answer.     Guido  laughed  lightly. 

"  He  would  never  have  discovered  anything.  You  were  too 
clever  for  him,  piccinina!  Besides,  his  conceit  saved  him — he 
had  so  good  an  opinion  of  himself  that  he  would  not  have 
deemed  it  possible  for  you  to  care  for  any  other  man." 

My  wife,  flawless  diamond,  pearl  of  pure  womanhood,  sighed 
half  restlessly. 

"  I  am  glad  he  is  dead !"  she  murmured ;  "  but  Guido  7nio, 
you  are  imprudent.  You  can  not  visit  me  now  so  often — 
the  servants  will  talk!  Then  I  must  go  into  mourning  for 
at  least  six  months — and  there  are  many  other  things  to  con- 
sider." 

Guide's  hand  played  with  the  jeweled  necklace  she  wore — 
he  bent  and  kissed  the  place  where  its  central  pendant  rested. 
Again — again,  good  sir,  I  pray  you!  Let  no  faint  scruples 
interfere  with  your  rightful  enjoyment!  Cover  the  white 
flesh  with  caresses — it  is  public  property !  A  dozen  kisses  more 
or  less  will  not  signify!  So  I  madly  thought  as  I  crouched 
among  the  trees — the  tigerish  wrath  within  me  making  the 
blood  beat  in  my  head  like  a  hundred  hammer-strokes. 

"  Nay  then,  my  love,"  he  replied  to  her,  "  it  is  almost  a  pity 
F«ibio  is  dead!    "While  he  lived  he  played  an  excellent  part 


64  VENDETTA ! 

as  a  screen — he  was  an  unconscious  but  veritable  duenna  of 
propriety  for  both  of  us,  as  no  one  else  could  be !" 

The  boughs  that  covered  me  creaked  and  rustled.  My  wife 
started,  and  looked  uneasily  round  her. 

"  Hush !"  she  said,  nervously.  "  He  was  buried  only  yester- 
day— and  they  say  there  are  ghosts  sometimes.  This  avenue, 
too — I  wish  we  had  not  come  here — it  was  his  favorite  walk. 
Besides,"  she  added,  with  a  slight  accent  of  regret,  "after  all 
he  was  the  father  of  my  child — you  must  think  of  that." 

"  By  Heaven !"  exclaimed  Guido,  fiercely,  "  do  I  not  think  of 
it?  Ay — and  I  curse  him  for  every  kiss  he  stole  from  your 
lips!" 

I  listened  half  stupefied.  Here  was  a  new  phase  of  the 
marriage  law !  Husbands  were  thieves  then — they  "  stole" 
kisses;  only  lovers  were  honest  in  their  embraces!  O  my 
dear  friend — my  more  than  brother — how  near  you  were  to 
death  at  that  moment !  Had  you  but  seen  my  face  peering 
pallidly  through  the  dusky  leaves — could  you  have  known  the 
force  of  the  fury  pent  up  within  me — you  would  not  have 
valued  your  life  at  one  baiocco! 

"  Why  did  you  marry  him?"  he  asked,  after  a  little  pause, 
during  which  he  toyed  with  the  fair  curls  that  floated  against 
his  breast. 

She  looked  up  with  a  little  mutinous  pout,  and  shrugged 
her  shoulders. 

"  Why?  Because  I  was  tired  of  the  convent,  and  all  the 
stupid,  solemn  ways  of  the  nuns ;  also  because  he  was  rich, 
and  I  was  horribly  poor.  I  cannot  bear  to  be  poor!  Then  he 
loved  me" — here  her  eyes  glimmered  with  malicious  triumph 
— "  yes — he  was  mad  for  me — and " 

"  You  loved  him?"  demanded  Guido,  almost  fiercely. 

"  Ma  chi  !  "  she  answered,  with  an  expressive  gesture.  "  I 
suppose  I  did — for  a  week  or  two.  As  much  as  one  ever 
loves  a  husband!  What  does  one  marry  for  at  all?  For  con- 
venience— money — position — he  gave  me  these  things,  as  you 
know." 

"  You  will  gain  nothing  by  marrying  me,  then,"  he  said, 
jealously. 

She  laughed,  and  laid  her  little  white  hand,  glittering  with 
rings,  lightly  against  his  lips 

"  Of  course  not !  Besides — have  I  said  I  will  marry  you? 
You  are  very  agreeable  as  a  lover — but  otherwise — I  am  not 


'  vendetta!  65 

sure !    And  I  am  free  now — I  can  do  as  I  like ;  I  want  to  enjoy 
my  liberty,  and " 

She  was  not  allowed  to  complete  her  sentence,  for  Ferrari 
snatched  her  close  to  his  breast  and  held  her  there  as  in  a  vise. 
His  face  was  aflame  with  passion. 

■  "  Look  you,  Nina,"  he  said,  hoarsely,  "  you  shall  not  fool 
jme — by  Heaven!  you  shall  not!  I  have  endured  enough  at 
your  hands,  God  knows!  When  I  saw  you  for  the  first  time 
on  the  day  of  your  marriage  with  that  poor  fool,  Fabio — I 
loved  you,  madly — ay,  wickedly  as  I  then  thought,  but  not  for 
the  sin  of  it  did  I  repent.  I  knew  you  were  woman,  not  angel, 
and  I  waited  my  time.  It  came — I  sought  you — I  told  you  my 
story  of  love  ere  three  months  of  wedded  life  had  passed  over 
your  head.  I  found  you  willing — ready — nay,  eager  to  hear 
me !  You  led  me  on ;  you  know  you  did !  You  tempted  me 
by  touch,  word  and  look ;  you  gave  me  all  I  sought !  Why 
try  to  excuse  it  now?  You  are  as  much  my  wife  as  ever  you 
were  Fabio's — nay,  you  are  more  so,  for  you  love  me — at  least 
you  say  so — and  though  you  lied  to  your  husband,  you  dare 
not  lie  to  me.  I  tell  you,  you  dare  not!  I  never  pitied  Fabio, 
never — he  was  too  easily  duped,  and  a  married  man  has  no 
right  to  be  otherwise  than  suspicious  and  ever  on  his  guard ; 
if  he  relaxes  in  his  vigilance  he  has  only  himself  to  blame 
when  his  honor  is  flung  like  a  ball  from  hand  to  hand,  as  one 
plays  with  a  child's  toy.  I  repeat  to  you,  Nina,  you  are  mine, 
and  I  swear  you  shall  never  escape  me !" 

The  impetuous  words  coursed  rapidly  from  his  lips,  and  his 
deep  musical  voice  had  a  defiant  ring  as  it  fell  on  the  stillness 
of  the  evening  air.     I  smiled  bitterly  as  I  heard !     She  strug- 
jgled  in  his  arms  half  angrily. 
I     "  Let  me  go,"  she  said.     "  You  are  rough,  you  hurt  me !" 

He  released  her  instantly.  The  violence  of  his  embrace 
had  crushed  the  rose  she  wore,  and  its  crimson  leaves  fluttered 
slowly  down  one  by  one  on  the  ground  at  her  feet.  Her  eyes 
flashed  resentfully,  and  an  impatient  frown  contracted  her 
fair  level  brows.  She  looked  away  from  him  in  silence,  the 
silence  of  a  cold  disdain.  Something  in  her  attitude  pained 
him,  for  he  sprang  forward  and  caught  her  hand,  covering  it 
with  kisses. 

"  Forgive  me,  carina  mia"  he  cried,  repentantly.  "  I  did  not 
mean  to  reproach  you.  You  can  not  help  being  beautiful — it 
is  the  fault  of  God  or  the  devil  that  you  are  so,  and  that  your 

s 


66  VENDETTA ! 

beauty  maddens  me !  You  are  the  heart  of  my  heart,  the  soul 
of  my  soul !  Oh,  Nina  mia,  let  us  not  waste  words  in  useless 
anger.  Think  of  it,  we  are  free — free !  Free  to  make  life  a 
long  dream  of  delight — delight  more  perfect  than  angels  can 
know !  The  greatest  blessing  that  could  have  befallen  us  is 
the  death  of  Fabio,  and  now  that  we  are  all  in  all  to  each 
other,  do  not  harden  yourself  against  me!  Nina,  be  gentle 
with  me — of  all  things  in  the  world,  surely  love  is  best!" 

She  smiled,  with  the  pretty  superior  smile  of  a  young  em- 
press pardoning  a  recreant  subject,  and  suffered  him  to  draw 
her  again,  but  with  more  gentleness,  into  his  embrace.  She 
put  up  her  lips  to  meet  his — I  looked  on  like  a  man  in  a  dream ! 
I  saw  them  cling  together — each  kiss  they  exchanged  was  a 
fresh  stab  to  my  tortured  soul. 

"You  are  so  foolish,  Guido  ;«/^,"  she  pouted,  passing  her 
little  jeweled  fingers  through  his  clustering  hair  with  a  light 
caress — "  so  impetuous — so  jealous !  I  have  told  you  over  and 
over  again  that  I  love  you !  Do  you  not  remember  that  night 
when  Fabio  sat  out  on  the  balcony  reading  his  Plato,  poor 
fellow!" — here  she  laughed  musically — "  and  we  were  tiying 
over  some  songs  in  the  drawing-room — did  I  not  say  then  that 
I  loved  you  best  of  any  one  in  the  world?  You  know  I  did! 
You  ought  to  be  satisfied !" 

Guido  smiled,  and  stroked  her  shining  golden  curls. 

"I  am  satisfied,"  he  said,  without  any  trace  of  his  former 
heated  impatience — "  perfectly  satisfied.  But  do  not  expect 
to  find  love  without  jealousy.  Fabio  was  never  jeal- 
ous— I  know — he  trusted  you  too  implicitly — he  was  nothing 
of  a  lover,  believe  me !  He  thought  more  of  himself  than  of 
you.  A  man  who  will  go  away  for  days  at  a  time  on  solitary 
yachting  and  rambling  excursions,  leaving  his  wife  to  her  own 
devices — a  man  who  reads  Plato  in  preference  to  looking  after 
her,  decides  his  own  fate,  and  deserves  to  be  ranked  with  those 
so-called  wise  but  most  ignorant  philosophers  to  whom  Woman 
has  always  remained  an  unguessed  riddle.  As  for  me — I  am 
jealous  of  the  ground  you  tread  upon — of  the  air  that  touches 
you — I  was  jealous  of  Fabio  while  he  lived — and — by  Heaven !" 
— his  eyes  darkened  with  a  somber  wrath — "  if  any  other  man 
dared  Tioni  to  dispute  your  love  with  me  I  would  not  rest  till 
his  body  had  served  my  sword  as  a  sheath !" 

Nina  raised  her  head  from  his  breast  with  an  air  of  petulant 
weariness. 


'  VENDETTA !  6/ 

"  Again !"  she  murmured,  reproachfully,  "  you  are  going  to 
be  angry  again!" 

He  kissed  her. 

"  Not  I,  sweet  one !  I  will  be  as  gentle  as  you  wish,  so  long 
as  you  love  me  and  only  me.  Come — this  avenue  is  damp  and 
chilly  for  you — shall  we  go  in?" 

My  wife — nay,  I  should  say  our  wife,  as  we  had  both  shared 
her  impartial  favors — assented.  With  arms  interlaced  and 
walking  slowly,  they  began  to  retrace  their  steps  toward  the 
house.     Once  they  paused. 

"  Do  you  hear  the  nightingales?"  asked  Guido. 

Hear  them?  Who  could  not  hear  them?  A  shower  of  mel- 
ody rained  from  the  trees  on  every  side — the  pure,  sweet, 
passionate  tones  pierced  the  ear  like  the  repeated  chime  of 
little  golden  bells — the  beautiful,  the  tender,  the  God-inspired 
birds  sung  their  love  stories  simply  and  with  perfect  rapture 
— love  stories  untainted  by  hypocrisy — unsullied  by  crime — 
different,  ah!  so  very  different  from  the  love  stories  of  selfish 
humanity !  The  exquisite  poetic  idyl  of  a  bird's  life  and  love 
— is  it  not  a  thing  to  put  us  inferior  creatures  to  shame — for 
are  we  ever  as  true  to  our  vows  as  the  lark  to  his  mate? — are 
we  as  sincere  in  our  thanksgivings  for  the  sunlight  as  the 
merry  robin  who  sings  as  blithely  in  the  winter  snow  as  in  the 
flower-filled  mornings  of  spring?  Nay — not  we !  Our  exist- 
ence is  but  one  long  impotent  protest  against  God,  combined 
with  an  insatiate  desire  to  get  the  better  of  one  another  in  the 
struggle  for  base  coin ! 

Nina  listened — and  shivered,  drawing  her  light  scarf  more 
closely  about  her  shoulders. 

"  I  hate  them !"  she  said,  pettishly ;  "  their  noise  is  enough 
to  pierce  one's  ears.  And  he  used  to  be  so  fond  of  them;  he 
used  to  sing — what  was  it? 

*"■  Ti  saluto,  Rosigmcolo, 
Nel  tuo  duolo,  ti  salutot 
Sie  r  afitatite  dell  a  rosa 
Cht  jnorendo  si  fa  sposa  !'  " 

Her  rich  voice  rippled  out  on  the  air,  rivaling  the  songs  of 
the  nightingales  themselves.  She  broke  off  with  a  little 
laugh. 

"  Poor  Fabio !  there  was  always  a  false  note  somewhere 
when  he  sang.     Come,  Guido !" 


68  VENDETTA . 

And  they  paced  on  quietly,  as  though  their  consciences 
were  clean — as  though  no  just  retribution  dogged  their  steps 
— as  though  no  shadow  of  a  terrible  vengeance  loomed  in  the 
heaven  of  their  pilfered  happiness !  I  watched  them  steadily 
as  they  disappeared  in  the  distance — I  stretched  my  head 
eagerly  out  from  between  the  dark  boughs  and  gazed  after 
their  retreating  figures  till  the  last  glimmer  of  my  wife's 
white  robe  had  vanished  behind  the  thick  foliage.  They  were 
gone — they  would  return  no  more  that  night. 

I  sprang  out  from  my  hiding-place.  I  stood  on  the  spot 
where  they  had  stood.  I  tried  to  bring  home  to  myself  the 
actual  truth  of  what  I  had  witnessed.  My  brain  whirled — 
circles  of  light  swam  giddily  before  me  in  the  air; — the  moon 
looked  blood-red.  The  solid  earth  seemed  unsteady  beneath 
my  feet — almost  I  doubted  whether  I  was  indeed  alive,  or 
whether  I  was  not  rather  the  wretched  ghost  of  my  past  self, 
doomed  to  return  from  the  grave  to  look  helplessly  upon  the 
loss  and  ruin  of  all  the  fair,  once  precious  things  of  by-gone 
days.  The  splendid  universe  around  me  seemed  no  more  up- 
held by  the  hand  of  God — no  more  a  majestic  marvel;  it  was 
to  me  but  an  inflated  bubble  of  emptiness — a  mere  ball  for 
devils  to  kick  and  spurn  through  space !  Of  what  avail  these 
twinkling  stars — these  stately  leaf-laden  trees — these  cups  of 
fragrance  we  know  as  flowers — this  round  wonder  of  the  eyes 
called  Nature?  Of  what  avail  was  God  himself,  I  wildly 
mused,  since  even  He  could  not  keep  one  woman  true?  She 
whom  I  loved — she  as  delicate  of  form,  as  angel-like  in  face 
as  the  child-bride  of  Christ,  St.  Agones — she,  even  she,  was — 
what?  A  thing  lower  than  the  beasts,  a  thing  as  vile  as  the 
vilest  wretch  in  female  form  that  sells  herself  for  a  gold  piece 
— a  thing — great  Heaven ! — for  all  men  to  despise  and  make 
light  of — for  the  finger  of  Scorn  to  point  out — for  the  foul  hiss- 
ing tongue  of  Scandal  to  mock  at !  This  creature  was  ray 
wife — the  mother  of  my  child — she  had  cast  mud  on  her  soul 
by  her  own  free  will  and  choice — she  had  selected  evil  as  her 
good — she  had  crowned  herself  with  shame  willingly — nay,  joy- 
fully; she  had  preferred  it  to  honor.  JVhat  should  be  done  ?  I 
tortured  myself  unceasingly  with  this  question.  I  stared 
blankly  on  the  ground — would  some  demon  spring  from  it  and 
give  me  the  answer  I  sought?  What  should  be  done  with  /ur 
— with  him,  my  treacherous  friend,  my  smiling  betrayer? 
Suddenly  my  eyes  lighted  on  the  fallen  rose  leaves — those 


vendetta!  69 

that  had  dropped  when  Gviido's  embrace  had  crushed  the 
flower  she  wore.  There  they  lay  on  the  path,  curled  softly  at 
the  edges  like  little  crimson  shells.  I  stooped  and  picked 
them  up — I  placed  them  all  in  the  hollow  of  my  hand  and 
looked  at  them.  They  had  a  sweet  odor — almost  I  kissed 
them — nay,  nay,  I  could  not — they  had  too  recently  lain  on 
the  breast  of  an  embodied  Lie!  Yes;  she  was  that,  a  Lie,  a 
living,  loving,  but  accursed  Lie !  "  Go  and  kill  her!"  Stay — 
where  had  I  heard  that?  Painfully  I  considered,  and  at  last 
remembered — and  then  I  thought  moodily  that  the  starved 
and  miserable  rag-picker  was  more  of  a  man  than  L  He  had 
taken  his  revenge  at  once  ;  while  L  like  a  fool,  had  let  occasion 
slip.  Yes,  but  not  forever!  There  were  different  ways  of 
vengeance ;  one  must  decide  the  best,  the  keenest  way — and, 
above  all,  the  way  that  shall  inflict  the  longest,  the  crudest 
agony  upon  those  by  whom  honor  is  wronged.  True — it 
would  be  sweet  to  slay  sin  in  the  act  of  sinning,  but  then — 
must  a  Romani  brand  himself  as  a  murderer  in  the  sight  of 
men?  Not  so ;  there  were  other  means — other  roads  leading 
to  the  same  end  if  the  tired  brain  could  only  plan  them  out. 
Slowly  I  dragged  my  aching  limbs  to  the  fallen  trunk  of  a  tree 
Rnd  sat  down,  still  holding  the  dying  rose  leaves  in  my 
clinched  palm.  There  was  a  surging  noise  in  my  ears — my 
mouth  tasted  of  blood,  my  lips  were  parched  and  burning  as 
with  fever.  "  A  white-haired  fisherman."  That  was  me!  The 
king  had  said  so.  Mechanically  I  looked  down  at  the  clothes 
I  wore — the  former  property  of  a  suicide.  "  He  was  a  fool," 
the  vender  of  them  had  said;  "  he  killed  himself." 

Yes,  there  was  no  doubt  of  it — he  was  a  fool.  I  would  not 
follow  his  example,  or  at  least  not  yet.  I  had  something  to 
do  first — something  that  must  be  done  if  I  could  only  see  my 
way  clear  to  it.  Yes — if  I  could  only  see  my  way  and  follow 
it  straightly,  resolutely,  remorselessly!  My  thoughts  were 
confused,  like  the  thoughts  of  a  fever-stricken  man  in  delirium 
— the  scent  of  the  rose  leaves  I  held  sickened  me  strangely — 
yet  I  would  not  throw  them  from  me ;  no,  I  would  keep  them 
to  remind  me  of  the  embraces  I  had  witnessed!  I  felt  for  my 
purse !  I  found  and  opened  it,  and  placed  the  withering  red 
petals  carefully  within  it.  As  I  slipped  it  again  in  my  pocket 
I  remembered  the  two  leathern  pouches  I  carried — the  one 
filled  with  gold,  the  other  with  the  jewels  I  had  intended  for 
— her.     My  adventures  in  the  vault  recurred  to  me ;  I  smiled 


70  VENDETTA I 

as  I  recollected  the  dire  struggle  I  had  made  for  life  and  lib- 
erty. Life  and  liberty ! — of  what  use  were  they  to  me  now, 
save  for  one  thing — revenge?  I  was  not  wanted;  I  was  not 
expected  back  to  refill  my  former  place  on  earth — the  large 
fortune  I  had  possessed  was  now  my  wife's  by  the  decree  of 
my  own  last  will  and  testament,  which  she  would  have  no 
difficulty  in  proving.  But  still,  wealth  was  mine — the  hidden 
stores  of  the  brigands  were  sufficient  to  make  any  man  more 
than  rich  for  the  term  of  his  natural  life.  As  I  considered 
this,  a  sort  of  dull  pleasure  throbbed  in  my  veins.  Money ! 
Anything  could  be  done  for  money — gold  would  purchase 
even  vengeance.  But  what  sort  of  vengeance?  Such  a  one  as 
I  sought  must  be  unique — refined,  relentless  and  complete.  I 
pondered  deeply.  The  evening  wind  blew  freshly  up  from 
the  sea ;  the  leaves  of  the  swaying  trees  whispered  mysteri- 
ously together;  the  nightingales  warbled  on  with  imtired 
sweetness;  and  the  moon,  like  the  round  shield  of  an  angel 
warrior,  shone  brightly  against  the  dense  blue  background  of 
the  sky.  Heedless  of  the  passing  of  hours,  I  sat  still,  lost  in 
a  bewildered  reverie.  "  There  was  always  a  false  note  sonie- 
tulure  when  he  sang!"  So  she  had  said,  laughing  that  little 
laugh  of  hers  as  cold  and  sharp  as  the  clash  of  steel.  True, 
true;  by  all  the  majesty  of  Heaven,  most  true!  There  was 
indeed  a  false  note — jarring,  not  so  much  the  voice,  as  the 
music  of  life  itself.  There  is  stuff  in  all  of  us  that  will  weave, 
as  we  desire  it,  into  a  web  of  stately  or  simple  harmony ;  but 
let  the  meteor-like  brilliancy  of  a  woman's  smile — a  woman's 
touch — a  woman's  lie — intermingle  itself,  with  the  strain,  and 
lo!  the  false  note  is  struck,  discord  declares  itself,  and  God 
himself,  the  great  Composer,  can  do  nothing  in  this  life  to 
restore  the  old  calm  tune  of  peaceful,  unspoiled  days !  So  I 
have  found ;  so  all  of  you  must  find,  long  before  you  and  sor- 
row grow  old  together. 

"  A  white-haired  fisherman!  " 

The  words  of  the  king  repeated  themselves  over  and  over 
again  in  my  tortured  brain.  Yes — I  was  greatly  changed,  I 
looked  worn  and  old — no  one  would  recognize  me  for  my 
former  self.  All  at  once,  with  this  thought,  an  idea  occurred 
to  me — a  plan  of  vengeance,  so  bold,  so  new,  and  withal  so 
terrible,  that  I  started  from  my  seat  as  though  stung  by  an 
adder.  I  paced  up  and  down  restlessly,  with  this  lurid  light 
of  fearful  revenge  pouring  in  on  every  nook  and  cranny  of  my 


vendetta!  71 

darkened  mind.  From  whence  had  come  this  daring  scheme? 
What  devil,  or  rather  what  angel  of  retribution,  had  whispered 
it  to  my  soul?  Dimly  I  wondered — but  amid  all  my  wonder  I 
began  practically  to  arrange  the  details  of  my  plot.  I  calcu- 
lated every  small  circumstance  that  was  likely  to  occur  in  the 
process  of  carrying  it  out.  My  stupefied  senses  became 
aroused  from  the  lethargy  of  despair,  and  stood  up  like  sol- 
diers on  the  alert,  armed  to  the  teeth.  Past  love,  pity,  par- 
don, patience — pooh!  what  were  all  these  resources  of  the 
world's  weaknesses  to  incl  What  was  it  to  me  that  the  bleed- 
ing Christ  forgave  His  enemies  in  death?  He  never  loved  a 
woman !  Strength  and  resolution  returned  to  me.  Let  com- 
mon sailors  and  rag-pickers  resort  to  murder  and  suicide  as  fit 
outlets  for  their  unreasoning  brute  wrath  when  wronged ;  but 
as  for  me,  why  should  I  blot  my  family  scutcheon  with  a 
merely  vulgar  crime?  Nay,  the  vengeance  of  a  Romani  must 
be  taken  with  assured  calmness  and  easy  deliberation — no 
haste,  no  plebeian  fury,  no  effeminate  fuss,  no  excitement.  I 
walked  up  and  down  slowly,  meditating  on  every  point  of  the 
bitter  drama  in  which  I  had  resolved  to  enact  the  chief  part, 
from  the  rise  to  the  fall  of  the  black  curtain.  The  mists 
cleared  from  my  brain — I  breathed  more  easily — my  nerves 
steadied  themselves  by  degrees — the  prospect  of  what  I  pur- 
posed doing  satisfied  me  and  calmed  the  fever  in  my  blood. 
I  became  perfectly  cool  and  collected.  I  indulged  in  no  more 
futile  regrets  for  the  past — why  should  I  mourn  the  loss  of  a 
love  I  never  possessed?  It  was  not  as  if  they  had  waited  till 
my  supposed  sudden  death — no !  within  three  months  of  my 
marriage  they  had  fooled  me;  for  three  whole  years  they  had 
indulged  in  their  criminal  amour,  while  I,  blind  dreamer,  had 
suspected  nothing.  No%u  I  knew  the  extent  of  my  injury ;  I 
was  a  man  bitterly  wronged,  vilely  duped.  Justice,  reason 
and  self-respect  demanded  that  I  should  punish  to  the  utmost 
the  miserable  tricksters  who  had  played  ine  false.  The  pas- 
sionate tenderness  I  had  felt  for  my  wife  was  gone — I  plucked 
it  from  my  heart  as  I  would  have  torn  a  thorn  from  my  flesh 
—I  flung  it  from  me  with  disgust  as  I  had  flung  away  the  un- 
seen reptile  that  had  fastened  on  my  neck  in  the  vault.  The 
deep  warm  friendship  of  years  I  had  felt  for  Guido  Ferrari 
froze  to  its  very  foundations — and  in  its  place  theie  rose  up, 
not  hate,  but  pitiless,  immeasurable  contempt.  A  stern  dis- 
dain of  myself  also  awoke  in  me,  as  I  remembered  the  un- 


72  VENDETTA f 

reasoning  joy  with  which  I  had  hastened — as  I  thought — home, 
full  of  eager  anticipation  and  Romeo-like  ardor.  An  idiot 
leaping  merrily  to  his  death  over  a  mountain  chasm  was  not 
more  fool  than  I !  But  the  dream  was  over — the  delusion  of 
my  life  was  passed.  I  was  strong  to  avenge — I  would  be 
swift  to  accomplish.  So,  darkly  musing  for  an  hour  or  more, 
I  decided  on  the  course  I  had  to  pursue,  and  to  make  the  de- 
cision final  I  drew  from  my  breast  the  crucifix  that  the  dead 
monk  Cipriano  had  laid  with  me  in  my  coffin,  and  kissing  it, 
I  raised  it  aloft,  and  swore  by  that  sacred  symbol  never  to 
relent,  never  to  relax,  never  to  rest,  till  I  had  brought  my  vow 
of  just  vengeance  to  its  utmost  fulfilment.  The  stars,  calm 
witnesses  of  my  oath,  eyed  me  earnestly  from  their  judgment 
thrones  in  the  quiet  sky — there  was  a  brief  pause  in  the  sing- 
ing of  the  nightingales,  as  though  they  too  listened — the  wind 
sighed  plaintively,  and  scattered  a  shower  of  jasmine  blossoms 
like  snow  at  my  feet.  Even  so,  I  thought,  fall  the  last  leaves 
of  my  white  days — days  of  pleasure,  days  of  sweet  illusion, 
days  of  dear  remembrance ;  even  so  let  them  wither  and  perish 
utterly  forever!  For  from  henceforth  my  life  must  be  some- 
thing other  than  a  mere  garland  of  flowers — it  must  be  a  chain 
of  finely  tempered  steel,  hard,  cold  and  unbreakable — formed 
into  links  strong  enough  to  wind  round  and  round  two  false 
lives  and  imprison  them  so  closely  as  to  leave  no  means  of 
escape.  This  was  what  must  be  done — and  I  resolved  to  do 
it.  With  a  firm,  quiet  step  I  turned  to  leave  the  avenue.  I 
opened  the  little  private  wicket,  and  passed  into  the  dusty 
road.  A  clanging  noise  caused  me  to  look  up  as  I  went  by  the 
principal  entrance  of  the  Villa  Romani.  A  servant — my  own 
man-servant  by  the  bye — was  barring  the  great  gates  for  the 
night.  I  listened  as  he  slid  the  bolts  into  their  places,  and 
turned  the  key.  I  remembered  that  those  gates  had  been 
thoroughly  fastened  before  when  I  came  up  the  road  from 
Naples — why  then  had  they  been  opened  since?  To  let  out  a 
visitor?  Of  course!  I  smiled  grimly  at  my  wife's  cunning! 
She  evidently  knew  what  she  was  about.  Appearances  must 
be  kept  up — the  Signor  Ferrari  must  be  decorously  shown  out 
by  a  servant  at  the  chief  entrance  of  the  house.  Naturally! — 
all  very  unsuspicious-looking  and  quite  in  keeping  with  the 
proprieties !  Guido  had  just  left  her  then?  I  walked  steadily, 
without  hurrying  my  pace,  down  the  hill  toward  the  city,  and 
on  the  way  I  overtook  him.     He  was  strolling  lazily  along, 


vendetta!  73 

smoking  as  usual,  and  he  held  a  spray  of  stephanotis  in  his 
hand — well  I  knew  who  had  given  it  to  him!  I  passed  him — 
he  glanced  up  carelessly,  his  handsome  face  clearly  visible  in 
the  bright  moonlight — but  there  was  nothing  about  a  common 
fisherman  to  attract  his  attention — his  look  only  rested  upon 
me  for  a  second  and  was  withdrawn  immediately.  An  insane 
desire  possessed  me  to  turn  upon  him — to  spring  at  his  throat 
— to  wrestle  with  him  and  throw  him  in  the  dust  at  my  feet — 
to  spit  at  him  and  trample  upon  him — but  I  repressed  those 
fierce  and  dangerous  emotions.  I  had  a  better  game  to  play 
■ — I  had  an  exquisite  torture  in  store  for  him,  compared  to 
which  a  hand-to-hand  fight  was  mere  vulgar  fooling.  Ven- 
geance ought  to  ripen  slowly  in  the  strong  heat  of  intense 
wrath,  till  of  itself  it  falls — hastily  snatched  before  its  time  it 
is  like  unmellowed  fruit,  sour  and  ungrateful  to  the  palate. 
So  I  let  my  dear  friend — my  wife's  consoler — saunter  on  his 
heedless  way  without  interference — I  passed,  leaving  him  to 
indulge  in  amorous  musings  to  his  false  heart's  content.  I 
entered  Naples,  and  found  a  night's  lodging  at  one  of  the 
usual  resorts  for  men  of  my  supposed  craft,  and,  strange  to 
say,  I  slept  soundly  and  dreamlessly.  Recent  illness,  fatigue, 
fear  and  sorrow,  all  aided  to  throw  me  like  an  exhausted  child 
upon  the  quiet  bosom  of  slumber,  but  perhaps  the  most  power- 
fully soothing  opiate  to  my  brain  was  the  consciousness  I  had 
of  a  practical  plan  of  retribution — more  terrible  perhaps  than 
any  human  creature  had  yet  devised,  so  far  as  I  knew.  Un- 
christian you  call  me?  I  tell  you  again,  Christ  never  loved  a 
woman !  Had  He  done  so,  He  would  have  left  us  some  special 
code  of  justice. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

I  ROSE  very  early  the  next  morning — I  was  more  than  ever 
strengthened  in  my  resolutions  of  the  past  night — my  projects 
were  entirely  formed,  and  nothing  remained  now  but  for  me 
to  carry  them  out.  Unobserved  of  any  one  I  took  my  way 
again  to  the  vault.  I  carried  with  me  a  small  lantern,  a  ham- 
mer, and  some  strong  nails.  Arrived  at  the  cemetery  I  looked 
carefully  everywhere  about  me,  lest  some  stray  mourner  or 
curious  stranger  might  possibly  be  in  the  neighborhood.  Not 
a  soul  was  in  sight.     Making  use  of  the  secret  passage,  I  soon 


74  vendetta! 

found  myself  on  the  scene  of  my  recent  terrors  and  sufferings, 
all  of  which  seemed  now  so  slight  in  comparison  with  the 
mental  torture  of  my  present  condition.  I  went  straight  to 
the  spot  where  I  had  left  the  coffined  treasure — I  possessed 
myself  of  all  the  rolls  of  paper  money,  and  disposed  them  in 
various  small  packages  about  my  person  and  in  the  lining  of 
my  clothes  till,  as  I  stood,  I  was  worth  many  thousands  of 
francs.  Then,  with  the  help  of  the  tools  I  had  brought,  I 
mended  the  huge  chest  in,  the  split  places  where  I  had  forced 
it  open,  and  nailed  it  up  fast,  so  that  it  looked  as  if  it  had 
never  been  touched.  I  lost  no  time  over  my  task,  for  I  was 
in  haste.  It  was  my  intention  to  leave  Naples  for  a  fortnight 
or  more,  and  I  purposed  taking  my  departure  that  very  day. 
Before  leaving  the  vault  I  glanced  at  the  coffin  I  myself  had 
occupied.  Should  I  mend  that  and  nail  it  up  as  though  my 
body  were  still  inside?  No — better  leave  it  as  it  was — roughly 
broken  open — it  would  serve  my  purpose  better  so.  As  soon 
as  I  had  finished  all  I  had  to  do,  I  clambered  through  the 
private  passage,  closing  it  after  me  with  extra  care  and  cau- 
tion, and  then  I  betook  myself  directly  to  the  Molo.  On 
making  inquiries  among  the  sailors  who  were  gathered  there, 
I  heard  that  a  small  coasting  brig  was  on  the  point  of  leaving 
for  Palermo.  Palermo  would  suit  me  as  well  as  any  other 
place;  I  sought  out  the  captain  of  the  vessel.  He  was  a 
brown-faced,  merry-eyed  mariner — he  showed  his  glittering 
white  teeth  in  the  most  amiable  of  smiles  when  I  expressed 
my  desire  to  take  passage  with  him,  and  consented  to  the 
arrangement  at  once  for  a  sum  which  I  thought  extremely 
moderate,  but  which  I  afterward  discovered  to  be  about  treble 
his  rightful  due.  But  the  handsome  rogue  cheated  me  with 
such  grace  and  exquisite  courtesy  that  I  would  scarcely  have; 
had  him  act  otherwise  than  ne  did.  I  hear  a  good  deal  of  the 
"plain  blunt  honesty"  of  the  English.  I  dare  say  there  is 
some  truth  in  it,  but  for  my  own  part  I  would  rather  be 
cheated  by  a  friendly  fellow  who  gives  you  a  cheery  word  and 
a  bright  look  than  receive  exact  value  for  my  money  from 
the  "  plain  blunt"  boor  who  seldom  has  the  common  politeness 
to  wish  you  a  good-day. 

We  got  under  way  at  about  nine  o'clock — the  morning  was 
bright,  and  the  air,  for  Naples,  was  almost  cool.  The  water 
rippling  against  the  sides  of  our  little  vessel  had  a  gurgling, 
^hfttty  mtirmur,  as  though  it  v/ere  talking:  vivaciously  of  all 


vendetta!  75 

the  pleasant  things  it  experienced  between  the  tioing  and  the 
setting  of  the  sun ;  of  the  corals  and  trailing  sea-weed  that 
grew  in  its  blue  depths,  of  the  lithe  glittering  fish  that  darted 
hither  and  thither  between  its  little  waves,  of  the  delicate 
shells  in  which  dwelt  still  more  delicate  inhabitants,  fantastic 
small  creatures  as  fine  as  filmy  lace,  that  peeped  from  the 
white  and  pink  doors  of  their  transparent  habitations,  and 
looked  as  enjoyingly  on  the  shimmering  blue-green  of  their 
ever-moving  element  as  we  look  on  the  vast  dome  of  our  sky, 
bespangled  thickly  with  stars.  Of  all  these  things,  and  many 
more  as  strange  and  sweet,  the  gossiping  water  babbled  un- 
ceasingly; it  had  even  something  to  say  to  me  concerning 
Troman  and  woman's  love.  It  told  me  gleefully  how  many 
fair  female  bodies  it  had  seen  sunk  in  the  cold  embrace  of  the 
conquering  sea,  bodies  dainty  and  soft  as  the  sylphs  of  a  poet's 
dream,  yet  which,  despite  their  exquisite  beauty,  had  been 
flung  to  and  fro  in  cruel  sport  by  the  raging  billows,  and  tossed 
among  pebbles  for  the  monsters  of  the  deep  to  feed  upon. 

As  I  sat  idly  on  the  vessel's  edge  and  looked  down,  down  in- 
to the  clear  Mediterranean,  brilliantly  blue  as  a  lake  of  melted 
sapphires,  I  fancied  I  could  see  her,  the  Delilah  of  my  life, 
lying  prone  on  the  golden  sand,  her  rich  hair  floating  straightly 
around  her  like  yellow  weed,  her  hands  clinched  in  the  death 
agony,  her  laughing  lips  blue  with  the  piercing  chilliness  of 
the  washing  tide — powerless  to  move  or  smile  again.  She 
would  look  well  so,  I  thought — better  to  my  mind  than  she 
looked  in  the  arms  of  her  lover  last  night.  I  fell  into  a  train 
of  profound  meditation — a  touch  on  my  shoulder  startled  me. 
I  looked  up,  the  captain  of  the  brig  stood  beside  me.  He 
smiled  and  held  out  a  cigarette. 

"The  signor  will  smoke?"  he  said,  courteously. 

I  accepted  the  little  roll  of  fragrant  Havana  half  mechani- 
cally. 

"  Why  do  you  call  me  signor?"  I  inquired,  brusquely.  "  I 
am  a  coral-fisher." 

The  little  man  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  bowed  deferen- 
tially, yet  with  the  smile  still  dancing  gayly  in  his  eyes  and 
dimpling  his  olive  cheeks. 

"Oh,  certainly!  As  the  signor  pleases — tna — "  And  he 
ended  with  another  expressive  shrug  and  bow. 

I  looked  at  him  fixedly.  "  What  do  you  mean?"  I  asked 
with  some  sternness. 


^6  vendetta! 

With  that  bird-like  lightness  and  swiftness  which  were  part 
of  his  manner,  the  Sicilian  skij^per  bent  forward  and  laid  a 
brown  finger  on  my  wrist. 

"  Scusa,  vi prego!  But  the  hands  are  not  those  of  a  fisher 
of  coral." 

I  glanced  down  at  them.  True  enough,  their  smoothness 
and  pliant  shape  betrayed  my  disguise — the  gay  little  captain 
was  sharp-witted  enough  to  note  the  contrast  between  them 
and  the  rough  garb  I  wore,  though  no  one  else  with  whom  I 
had  come  in  contact  had  been  as  keen  of  observation  as  he. 
At  first  I  was  slightly  embarrassed  by  his  remark — but  after  a 
moment's  pause  I  met  his  gaze  frankly,  and  lighting  my 
cigarette,  I  said,  carelessly : 

"  Ebbene!    And  what  then,  my  friend?" 

He  made  a  deprecatory  gesture  with  his  hands.  "  Nay,  nay, 
nothing — but  only  this.  The  signor  must  understand  he  is 
perfectly  safe  with  me.  My  tongue  is  discreet — I  talk  of 
things  only  that  concern  myself.  The  signor  has  good  reasons 
for  what  he  does — of  that  I  am  sure.  He  has  suffered;  it  is 
enough  to  look  in  his  face  to  see  that.  Ah,  Dio  !  there  are  so 
many  sorrows  in  life ;  there  is  love,"  he  enumerated  rapidly  on 
his  fingers — "  there  is  revenge — there  are  quarrels — there  is 
loss  of  money;  any  of  these  will  drive  a  man  from  place  to 
place  at  all  hours  and  in  all  weathers.  Yes;  it  is  so,  indeed 
— I  know  it!  The  signor  has  trusted  himself  in  my  boat — I 
desire  to  assure  him  of  my  best  services." 

And  he  raised  his  red  cap  with  so  charming  a  candor  that 
in  my  lonely  and  morose  condition  I  was  touched  to  the  heart. 
Silently  I  extended  my  hand — he  caught  it  with  an  air  in 
which  respect,  sympathy,  and  entire  friendliness  were  min- 
gled. And  yet  he  overcharged  me  for  my  passage,  you  ex- 
claim!  Ay — but  he  would  not  have  made  me  the  object  of 
impertinent  curiosity  for  twenty  times  the  money !  You  can- 
not understand  the  existence  of  such  conflicting  elements  in 
the  Italian  character?  No — I  dare  say  not.  The  tendency 
of  the  calculating  Northerner  under  the  same  circumstances 
would  have  been  to  make  as  much  out  of  me  as  possible  by 
means  of  various  small  and  contemptible  items,  and  then  to 
go  with  broadly  honest  countenance  to  the  nearest  police- 
station  and  describe  my  suspicious  appearance  and  manner, 
thus  exposing  me  to  fresh  expense, besides  personal  annoyance. 
With  the  rare  tact  that  distinguishes  the  Southern  races,  the 


vendetta!  77 

captain  changed  the  conversation  by  a  reference  to  the  tobacco 
we  were  both  enjoying. 

"  It  is  good,  is  it  not?"  he  asked. 

"  Excellent!"  I  answered,  as  indeed  it  was. 

His  white  teeth  glittered  in  a  smilu  of  amusement. 

"  It  should  be  of  the  finest  quality — for  it  is  a  present  from 
one  who  will  smoke  nothing  but  the  choice  brands.  Ah,  Dio! 
what  a  fine  gentleman  spoiled  is  Carmelo  Neri!" 

I  could  not  repress  a  slight  start  of  surprise.  What  caprice 
of  Fate  associated  me  with  this  famous  brigand.-*  I  was  act- 
ually smoking  his  tobacco,  and  I  owed  all  my  present  wealth 
to  his  stolen  treasures  secreted  in  my  family  vault! 

"  You  know  the  man,  then?"  I  inquired  with  some  curiosity. 

"  Know  him?  As  well  as  I  know  myself.  Let  me  see,  it  is 
two  months — yes — two  months  to-day  since  he  was  with  me 
on  board  this  very  vessel.  It  happened  in  this  way — I  was  at 
Gaeta — he  came  to  me  and  told  me  the  gendarmes  were  after 
him.  He  offered  me  more  gold  than  I  ever  had  in  my  life  to 
take  him  to  Termini,  from  whence  he  could  get  to  one  of  his 
hiding-places  in  the  Montemaggiore.  He  brought  Teresa  with 
him;  he  found  me  alone  on  the  brig — ray  men  had  gone 
ashore.  He  said,  'Take  us  to  Termini,  and  I  will  give  you  so 
much;  refuse,  and  I  will  slit  your  throat.'  Ha!  ha!  ha! 
That  was  good.  I  laughed  at  him ;  I  put  a  chair  for  Teresa 
on  deck,  and  gave  her  some  big  peaches.  I  said,  'See,  my 
Carmelo!  what  use  is  there  in  threats?  You  will  not  kill  me, 
and  I  shall  not  betray  you.  You  are  a  thief,  and  a  bad 
thief — by  all  the  saints  you  are — but  I  dare  say  you  would 
not  be  much  worse  than  the  hotel  keepers  if  you  could 
only  keep  your  hand  off  your  knife.'  (For  you  know,  signer, 
if  you  once  enter  a  hotel  you  must  pay  almost  a  ransom  before 
you  can  get  out  again !)  Yes — and  I  reasoned  with  Carmelo 
in  this  manner:  I  told  him,  'I  do  not  want  a  large  fortune  for 
carrying  you  and  Teresa  across  to  Termini— pay  me  the  just 
passage  and  we  shall  part  friends,  if  only  for  Teresa's  sake.' 
Well,  he  was  surprised.  He  smiled  that  dark  smile  of  his, 
which  may  mean  gratitude  or  murder.  He  looked  at  Teresa. 
She  sprung  up  from  her  seat,  and  let  her  peaches  fall  from  her 
lap  on  the  deck.  She  put  her  little  hands  on  mine — the  tears 
were  in  her  pretty  blue  eyes.  'You  are  a  good  man, '  she  said. 
'Some  woman  must  love  you  very  much!'  Yes — she  said 
that.     And  she  was  right.     Our  Lady  be  praised  for  it  1" 


78  vendetta! 

And  his  dark  eyes  glanced  upward  with  a  devout  gesture  of 
thanksgiving.  I  looked  at  him  with  a  sort  of  jealous  hunger 
gnawing  at  my  heart.  Here  was  another  self-deluded  fool — a 
fond  wretch  feasting  on  the  unsubstantial  food  of  a  pleasant 
dream — a  poor  dupe  who  believed  in  the  truth  of  woman ! 

"  You  are  a  happy  man,"  I  said  with  a  forced  smile;  "you 
have  a  guiding  star  for  your  life  as  well  as  for  your  boat — a 
woman  who  loves  you  and  is  faithful?  Is  it  so?" 

He  answered  me  directly  and  simply,  raising  his  cap  slightly 
as  he  did  so. 

"Yes,  signor — my  mother."  I  was  deeply  touched  by  his 
naive  and  unexpected  reply — more  deeply  than  I  cared  to 
show.  A  bitter  regret  stirred  in  my  soul — why,  oh,  why  had 
my  mother  died  so  young?  Why  had  I  never  known  the 
sacred  joy  that  seemed  to  vibrate  through  the  frame  and 
sparkle  in  the  eyes  of  this  common  sailor !  Why  must  I  be 
forever  alone,  with  a  curse  of  a  woman's  lie  on  my  life,  weigh- 
ing me  down  to  the  dust  and  ashes  of  a  desolate  despair! 
Something  in  my  face  must  have  spoken  my  thoughts,  for  the 
captain  said  gently : 

"  The  signor  has  no  mother?" 

"  She  died  when  I  was  but  a  child,"  I  answered,  briefly. 

The  Sicilian  puffed  lightly  at  his  cigarette  in  silence — the 
silence  of  an  evident  compassion.  To  relieve  him  of  his 
friendly  embarrassment,  I  said : 

"  You  spoke  of  Teresa?    Who  is  Teresa?" 

"  Ah,  you  may  well  ask,  signor!  No  one  knows  who  she  is; 
she  loves  Carmelo  Neri,  and  there  all  is  said.  Such  a  little 
thing  she  is — so  delicate !  like  a  foam-bell  on  the  waves ;  and 
Carmelo —    You  have  seen  Carmelo,  signor?" 

I  shook  my  head  in  the  negative. 

"  Ebbene!  Carmelo  is  big  and  rough  and  black  like  a  wolf 
of  the  forests,  all  hair  and  fangs;  Teresa  is,  well!  you  have 
seen  a  little  cloud  in  the  sky  at  night,  wandering  past  the 
moon  all  flecked  with  pale  gold?— that  is  Teresa.  She  is  small 
and  slight  as  a  child;  she  has  rippling  curls,  and  soft  praying 
eyes,  and  tiny,  weak,  white  hands,  not  strong  enough  to  snap 
a  twig  in  two.  Yet  she  can  do  anything  with  Carmelo — she 
is  the  one  soft  spot  in  his  life." 

"  I  wonder  if  she  is  true  to  him,"  I  muttered,  half  to  myself 
and  half  aloud. 

The  captain  caught  up  my  words,  with  an  accent  of  surprise. 


VENDETTA !  79 

"  True  to  him?  Ah,  Dio!  but  the  signer  does  not  know  her. 
There  was  one  of  Carmelo's  own  band,  as  bold  and  handsome 
a  cut-throat  as  ever  lived — he  was  mad  for  Teresa — he  followed 
her  everywhere  like  a  beaten  cur.  One  day  he  found  her 
alone;  he  tried  to  embrace  her — she  snatched  a  knife  from 
his  own  girdle  and  stabbed  him  with  it,  like  a  little  fury !  She 
did  not  kill  him  then,  but  Carmelo  did  afterward.  To  think 
of  a  little  woman  like  that  with  such  a  devil  in  her!  It  is  her 
boast  that  no  man,  save  Carmelo,  has  ever  touched  so  much 
as  a  ringlet  of  her  hair.  Ay,  she  is  true  to  him — more's  the 
pity." 

"  Why — you  would  not  have  her  false?"  I  asked. 

"  Nay,  nay — for  a  false  woman  deserves  death — but  still  it 
is  a  pity  Teresa  should  have  fixed  her  love  on  Carmelo.  Such 
a  man !  One  day  the  gendarmes  will  have  him,  then  he  will 
be  in  the  galleys  for  life,  and  she  will  die.  Yes — you  may  be 
sure  of  that!  If  grief  does  not  kill  her  quickly  enough,  then 
she  will  kill  herself,  that  is  certain !  vShe  is  slight  and  frail  to 
look  at  as  a  flower,  but  her  soul  is  strong  as  iron.  She  will 
have  her  own  way  in  death  as  well  as  in  love — some  women 
are  made  so,  and  it  is  generally  the  weakest-looking  among 
them  who  have  the  most  courage." 

Our  conversation  was  here  interrupted  by  one  of  the  sailors 
who  came  for  his  master's  orders.  The  talkative  skipper, 
with  an  apologetic  smile  and  bow,  placed  his  box  of  cigarettes 
beside  me  where  I  sat,  and  left  me  to  my  own  reflections. 

I  was  not  sorry  to  be  alone.  I  needed  a  little  breathing 
time — a  rest  in  which  to  think,  though  my  thoughts,  like  a 
new  solar  system,  revolved  round  the  red  planet  of  one  central 
[idea,  Vengeance.  "A  false  woman  deserves  death."  Even 
this  simple  Sicilian  mariner  said  so.  "Go  and  kill  her;  go 
and  kill  her!"  These  words  reiterated  themselves  over  and 
over  again  in  my  ears  till  I  found  myself  almost  uttering  them 
aloud.  My  soul  sickened  at  the  contemplation  of  the  woman 
Teresa — the  mistress  of  a  wretched  brigand  whose  name  was 
fraught  with  horror — whose  looks  were  terrific — she,  even 
she,  could  keep  herself  sacred  from  the  profaning  touch  of 
other  men's  caresses — she  was  proud  of  being  faithful  to  her 
wolf  of  the  mountains,  whose  temper  was  uncertain  and 
treacherous — she  could  make  lawful  boast  of  her  fidelity  to 
her  blood-stained  lover — while  Nina,  the  wedded  wife  of  a 
noble  whose  descent  was  lofty  and  unsullied,  could  tear  ofi 


8o  vendetta! 

the  fair  crown  of  honorable  marriage  and  cast  it  in  the  dust — 
could  take  the  dignity  of  an  ancient  family  and  trample  upon 
it — could  make  herself  so  low  and  vile  that  even  this  common 
Teresa,  knowing  all,  might  and  most  probably  would  refuse 
to  touch  her  hand,  considering  it  polluted.  Just  God!  what 
had  Carmelo  Neri  done  to  deserve  the  priceless  jewel  of  a 
true  woman's  heart?  What  had  /done  to  merit  such  foul  de- 
ception as  that  which  I  was  now  called  upon  to  avenge?  Sud- 
denly I  thought  of  my  child.  Her  memory  came  upon  me 
like  a  ray  of  light — I  had  almost  forgotten  her.  Poor  little 
blossom ! — the  slow  hot  tears  forced  themselves  between  my 
eyelids,  as  I  called  up  before  my  fancy  the  picture  of  the  soft 
baby  face — the  young  untroubled  eyes,  the  little  coaxing 
mouth  always  budding  into  innocent  kisses !  What  should  I 
do  with  her?  When  the  plan  of  punishment  I  had  matured  in 
my  brain  was  carried  out  to  its  utmost,  should  I  take  her  with 
me  far,  far  away  into  some  quiet  corner  of  the  world,  and  de- 
vote my  life  to  hers?  Alas!  alas!  she,  too,  would  be  a  woman 
and  beautiful;  she  was  a  flower  born  of  a  poisoned  tree;  who 
could  say  that  there  might  not  be  a  canker-worm  hidden  even 
in  her  heart,  which  waited  but  for  the  touch  of  maturity  to 
commence  its  work  of  destruction!  O  men!  you  that  have 
serpents  coiled  round  your  lives  in  the  shape  of  fair  false 
women,  if  God  has  given  you  children  by  them,  the  curse  de- 
scends upon  you  doubly !  Hide  it  as  you  will  under  the  society 
masks  we  are  all  forced  to  wear,  you  know  there  is  nothing 
more  keenly  torturing  than  to  see  innocent  babes  look  trust- 
ingly into  the  deceitful  eyes  of  an  unfaithful  wife,  and  call  her 
by  the  sacred  name  of  "  Mother."  Eat  ashes  and  drink  worm- 
wood, you  shall  find  them  sweet  in  comparison  to  that  nause- 
ating bitterness!  For  the  rest  of  the  day  I  was  very  much 
alone.  The  captain  of  the  brig  spoke  cheerily  to  me  now  and 
then,  but  we  were  met  by  light  contrary  winds  that  necessi- 
tated his  giving  most  of  his  attention  to  the  management  of 
his  vessel,  so  that  he  could  not  permit  himself  to  yield  to  the 
love  of  gossip  that  was  inherent  in  him.  The  weather  was 
perfect,  and  notwithstanding  our  constant  shifting  and  tacking 
about  to  catch  the  erratic  breeze,  the  gay  little  brig  made 
merry  and  rapid  way  over  the  sparkling  Mediterranean  at  a 
rate  that  promised  our  arrival  at  Palermo  by  the  sunset  of  the 
following  day.  As  the  evening  came  on  the  wind  freshened, 
and  by  the  time  the  moon  soared  like  a  large  bright  bird  into 


vendetta!  8i 

the  sky,  we  were  scudding  along  sideways,  the  edge  of  out 
vessel  leaning  over  to  kiss  the  waves  that  gleamed  like  silver 
and  gold,  flecked  here  and  there  with  phosphorescent  flame. 
We  skimmed  almost  under  the  bows  of  a  magnificent  yacht — ■ 
the  English  flag  floated  from  her  mast — her  sails  glittered 
purely  white  in   the  moonbeams,  and   she  sprang  over   the 
water  like  a  sea-gull.     A  man  whose  tall  athletic  figure  was 
shown  oH  to  advantage  by  the   yachting    costume  he  wore 
stood  on  deck,  his  arm  thrown  round  the  waist  of  a  girl  beside 
him.     We  were  but  a  minute  or  two  passing  the  stately  ves- 
sel, yet  I  saw  plainly  this  loving  group  of  two,  and — I  pitied 
the  man!    Why?    He  was  English  undoubtedly — the  son  of  a 
country  where  the  very  soil  is  supposed  to  be  odorous  of 
virtue — therefore  the  woman  beside  him  must  be  a  perfect 
pearl  of  purity ;   an  Englishman  never  makes  a  mistake  in 
these  things!     Never?    Are  you  sure?    Ah,  believe  me,  there 
is  not  much  difference  nowadays  between  women  of  opposite 
nations.     Once  there  was — I  am  willing  to  admit  that  possi- 
bility.    Once,  from  all   accounts   received,  the   English  rose 
was  the  fitting  emblem  of  the  English  woman,  but  now,  since 
the  world  has  grown  so  wise  and  made  such  progress  in  the 
art  of  running  rapidly  down  hill,  is  even  the  aristocratic  British 
peer  quite  easy  in  his  mind  regarding  his  fair  peeress?     Can 
he  leave  her  to  her  own  devices  with  safety?    Are  there  not 
men,  boastful   too   of  their   "  blue   blood,"  who   are   perhaps 
ready  to  stoop  to  the  thief's  trick  of  entering  his  house  during 
his  absence  by  means  of  private  keys,  and  stealing  away  his 
wife's  affections?   And  is  not  she,  though  a  mother  of  three  or 
four  children,  ready  to  receive  with  favor  the  mean  robber  of 
her  husband's  rights  and  honor?     Read  the  London  news- 
papers any  day  and  you  will  find  that  once-"  moral"  England 
is  running  a  neck-and-neck  race  with  other  less  hypocritical 
nations  in  pursuit  of  social  vice.     The  barriers  that  once  ex- 
isted are  broken  down ;  "  professional  beauties"  are  received 
in  circles  where  their  presence  formerly  would  have  been  the 
signal  for  all  respectable  women  instantly  to  retire ;  ladies  of 
title  are  satisfied  to  caper  on  the  boards  of  the  theatrical  stage, 
in  costumes  that  display  their  shape  as  undisguisedly  as  pos- 
sible to  the  eyes  of  the  grinning  public,  or  they  sing  in  concert 
halls  for  the  pleasure  of  showing  themselves  off,  and  actually 
accept  the  vulgar  applause  of  unwashed  crowds  with  a  smile 
and  a  bow  of  gratitude  1    Ye  gods !   what  has  become  of  the 


82  vendetta! 

superb  pride  of  the  old  regime :  the  pride  which  disdained  all 
ostentation  and  clung  to  honor  more  closely  than  life?  What 
a  striking  sign  of  the  times  too,  is  this :  let  a  woman  taint 
her  virtue  before  marriage,  she  is  never  forgiven — her  sin 
is  never  forgotten;  but  let  her  do  what  she  will  when  she 
has  a  husband's  name  to  screen  her,  and  society  winks  its 
eyes  at  her  crimes.  Couple  this  fact  with  the  general  spirit 
of  mockery  that  prevails  in  fashionable  circles:  mockery 
of  religion,  mockery  of  sentiment,  mockery  of  all  that  is 
best  and  noblest  in  the  human  heart :  add  to  it  the  general 
spread  of  "Free-thought,"  and  therefore  of  conflicting  and 
unstable  opinions — let  all  these  things  together  go  on  for 
a  few  years  longer,  and  England  will  stare  at  her  sister 
nations  like  a  bold  woman  in  a  domino — her  features  partly 
concealed  from  a  pretence  at  shame,  but  her  eyes  glitter- 
ing coldly  through  the  mask,  betraying  to  all  who  look  at  her 
how  she  secretly  revels  in  her  new  code  of  lawlessness,  coupled 
with  greed.  For  she  will  always  be  avaricious — and  the  worst 
of  it  is  that,  her  nature  being  prosaic,  there  will  be  no  redeem- 
ing grace  to  cast  a  glamour  about  her.  France  is  unvirtuous 
enough,  God  knows,  yet  there  is  a  sunshiny  smile  on  her  lips 
that  cheers  the  heart.  Italy  is  also  unvirtuous,  yet  her  voice 
is  full  of  bird-like  melody,  and  her  face  is  a  dream  of  perfect 
poetry !  But  England,  unvirtuous,  will  be  like  a  cautiously 
calculating,  somewhat  shrewish  matron,  possessed  of  unnatural 
and  unbecoming  friskiness,  without  either  laugh,  or  song,  or 
smile — her  one  god.  Gold,  and  her  one  commandment,  the 
suggested  eleventh,  "  Thou  shalt  7iot  be  foimd  out." 

I  slept  that  night  on  deck.  The  captain  offered  me  the  use 
lof  his  little  cabin,  and  was,  in  his  kind-hearted  manner,  truly 
[distressed  at  my  persistent  refusal  to  occupy  it. 

"It  is  bad  to  sleep  in  the  moonlight,  signor,"  he  said,  anx- 
iously.    "  It  makes  men  mad,  they  say." 

I  smiled.  Had  madness  been  my  destiny,  I  should  have 
gone  mad  last  night,  I  thought ! 

"  Have  no  fear!"  I  answered  him,  gently.  "  The  moonlight 
is  a  joy  to  me — it  has  no  impression  on  my  mind  save  that  of 
peace.  I  shall  rest  well  here,  my  friend.  Do  not  trouble 
yourself  about  me." 

He  hesitated  and  then  abruptly  left  me,  to  return  in  the 
space  of  two  or  three  minutes  with  a  thick  rug  of  sheepskin. 
He  insisted  so  earnestly  on  my  accepting  this  covering  as  a 


vendetta!  83 

protection  from  the  night  air  that,  to  please  him,  I  yielded  to 
his  entreaties  and  lay  down,  wrapped  in  its  warm  folds.  The 
good-natured  fellow  then  wished  me  a  "  Buon  riposo,  signor !" 
and  descended  to  his  own  resting-place,  humming  a  gay  tune 
as  he  went.  From  my  recumbent  posture  on  the  deck  I  stared 
upward  at  the  myriad  stars  that  twinkled  softly  in  the  warm 
'violet  skies — stared  long  and  fixedly  till  it  seemed  to  me  that 
our  ship  had  also  become  a  star,  and  was  sailing  through 
space  with  its  glittering  companions.  What  inhabitants  peo- 
pled those  fair  planets,  I  wondered?  Mere  men  and  women 
who  lived  and  loved  and  lied  to  one  another  as  bravely  as  we 
do,  or  superior  beings  to  whom  the  least  falsehood  is  un- 
known? Was  there  one  world  among  them  where  no  women 
were  born?  Vague  fancies — odd  theories — flitted  through  my 
brain.  I  lived  over  again  the  agony  of  my  imprisonment  in 
the  vaults — again  I  forced  myself  to  contemplate  the  scene 
I  had  witnessed  between  my  wife  and  her  lover — again  I 
meditated  on  every  small  detail  requisite  to  the  fulfilment 
of  the  terrible  vengeance  I  had  designed.  I  have  often 
wondered  how,  in  countries  where  divorce  is  allowed,  a 
wronged  husband  can  satisfy  himself  with  so  meager  a  com- 
pensation for  his  injuries  as  the  mere  getting  rid  of  the 
woman  who  has  deceived  him.  It  is  no  punishment  to  her — ■ 
it  is  what  she  wishes.  There  is  not  even  any  very  special  dis- 
grace in  it,  according  to  the  present  standard  of  social  observ- 
ances. Were  public  whipping  the  recognized  penalty  for  the 
crime  of  a  married  woman's  infidelity,  there  would  be  fewer 
of  the  like  scandals — the  divorce  might  follow  the  scourging. 
A  daintily  brought-up  feminine  creature  would  think  twice, 
nay,  fifty  times,  before  she  would  run  the  risk  of  allowing  her 
delicate  body  to  be  lashed  by  whips  wielded  by  the  merciless 
hands  of  a  couple  of  her  own  sex — such  a  prospect  of  degrada- 
tion, pain,  shame,  and  outraged  vanity  would  be  more  effectual 
to  kill  the  brute  in  her  than  all  the  imposing  ceremonials  of 
courts  of  law  and  special  juries.  Think  of  it,  kings,  lords, 
and  commons!  Whipping  at  the  cart's  tail  was  once  a  legal 
punishment;  if  you  would  stop  the  growing  immorality  and 
reckless  vice  of  women  you  had  best  revive  it  again — only 
apply  it  to  rich  as  well  as  to  poor,  for  it  is  most  probable  that 
the  gay  duchesses  and  countesses  of  your  lands  will  need  its 
sharp  services  more  frequently  than  the  work-worn  wives  of 
your  laboring  men.     Luxury,  idleness,  and  love  of  dress  are 


84  vendetta! 

hot-beds  for  sin — look  for  it,  therefore,  not  so  much  in  tne 
hovels  of  the  starving  and  naked  as  in  the  rose-tinted,  musk- 
scented  boudoirs  of  the  aristocracy — look  for  it,  as  your  brave 
physicians  would  search  out  the  seeds  of  a  pestilence  that 
threatens  to  depopulate  a  great  city,  and  trample  it  out  if  you 
can  and  luill,  if  you  desire  to  keep  the  name  of  your  countries 
glorious  in  the  eyes  of  future  history.  Spare  not  the  rod  be- 
cause "  my  lady"  forsooth !  with  her  rich  hair  falling  around 
her  in  beauteous  dishevelment  and  her  eyes  bathed  in  tears, 
implores  your  mercy ;  for  by  very  reason  of  her  wealth  and 
station  she  deserves  less  pity  than  the  painted  outcast  who 
knows  not  where  to  turn  for  bread.  A  high  post  demands 
high  duty  !  But  I  talk  wildly.  Whipping  is  done  away  with, 
for  women  at  least — we  give  a  well-bred  shudder  of  disgust 
at  the  thought  of  it.  When  do  we  shudder  with  equal  disgust 
at  our  own  social  enormities?  Seldom  or  never.  Meanwhile, 
in  cases  of  infidelity,  husbands  and  wives  can  separate  and  go 
on  their  different  ways  in  comparative  peace.  Yes,  some  can 
and  some  do ;  but  I  am  not  one  of  these.  No  law  in  all  the 
world  can  mend  the  torn  flag  of  f>iy  honor;  therefore  I  must  be 
a  law  to  myself — a  counsel,  a  jury,  a  judge,  all  in  one — and 
from  my  decision  there  can  be  no  appeal!  Then  I  must  act 
as  executioner,  and  what  torture  was  ever  so  perfectly  unique 
as  the  one  I  had  devised?  So  I  mused,  lying  broadly  awake, 
with  face  upturned  to  the  heavens,  watching  the  light  of  the 
moon  pouring  itself  out  on  the  ocean  like  a  shower  of  gold, 
while  the  water  rushed  gurgling  softly  against  the  sides  of  the 
brig,  and  broke  into  the  laughter  of  white  foam  as  we  scudded 
along. 


CHAPTER  X. 

All  the  next  day  the  wind  was  in  our  favor,  and  we  arrived 
at  Palermo  an  hour  before  sunset.  We  had  scarcely  run  into 
harbor  when  a  small  party  of  officers  and  gendarmes,  heavily 
laden  with  pistols  and  carbines,  came  on  board  and  showed  a 
document  authorizing  them  to  search  the  brig  for  Carmelo 
Neri.  I  was  somewhat  anxious  for  the  safety  of  my  good 
friend  the  captain,  but  he  was  in  nowise  dismayed;  he  smiled 
and  welcomed  the  armed  emissaries  of  the  government  ag 
though  they  were  his  dearest  friends. 


vendetta!  85 

"To  give  you  my  opinion  frankly,"  he  said  to  them,  as  he 
opened  a  flask  of  fine  Chianti  for  their  behoof,  "  I  believe  the 
villain  Carmelo  is  somewhere  about  Gaeta.  I  would  not  tell 
you  a  lie;  why  should  I?  Is  there  not  a  reward  offered,  and 
am  not  I  poor?  Look  you,  I  would  do  my  best  to  assist 
you!" 

One  of  the  men  looked  at  him  dubiously. 

"  We  received  information,"  he  said,  in  precise,  business-like 
tones,  "  that  Neri  escaped  from  Gaeta  two  months  since,  and 
was  aided  and  abetted  in  his  escape  by  one  Andrea  Luziani, 
owner  of  the  coasting  brig  'Laura,'  journeying  for  purposes 
of  trade  between  Naples  and  Palermo.  You  are  Andrea 
Luziani,  and  this  is  the  brig  'Laura' — we  are  right  in  this;  is 
it  not  so?" 

"As  if  you  could  ever  be  wrong,  caro"  cried  the  captain 
with  undiminishud  gayety,  clapping  him  on  the  shoulder. 
"  Nay,  if  St.  Peter  should  have  the  bad  taste  to  shut  you  out 
of  heaven,  you  woitld  be  cunning  enough  to  find  another  and 
better  entrance !  Ah,  Dio !  I  believe  it!  Yes,  you  are  right 
about  my  name  and  the  name  of  my  brig,  but  in  the  other 
things" — here  he  shook  his  fingers  with  an  expressive  sign  of 
denial — "  you  are  wrong — wrong — all  wrong!"  He  broke  into 
a  gay  laugh.  "  Yes,  wrong — but  we  v/ill  not  quarrel  about  it ! 
Have  some  more  Chianti !  Searching  for  brigands  is  thirsty 
work.  Fill  your  glasses,  ainici — spare  not  the  flask — there  are 
twenty  more  below  stairs!" 

The  officers  smiled  in  spite  of  themselves  as  they  drank  the 
proff'ered  wine,  and  the  youngest-looking  of  the  party,  a 
brisk,  handsome  fellow,  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  captain 
with  ardor,  though  he  evidently  thought  he  should  trap  him 
into  a  confession  unawares  by  the  apparent  carelessness  and 
bonhomie  of  his  manner." 

"Bravo,  Andrea!"  he  cried,  merrily.  "So!  let  us  all  be 
friends  together!  Besides,  what  harm  is  there  in  taking  a 
brigand  for  a  passenger — no  doubt  he  would  pay  you  better 
than  most  cargoes !" 

But  Andrea  was  not  to  be  so  caught.  On  the  contrary,  he 
raised  his  hands  and  eyes  with  an  admirably  feigned  expres- 
sion of  shocked  alarm. 

"  Our  Lady  and  the  saints  forg^ive  you !"  he  exclaimed, 
piously,  "  for  thinking  that,  I  an  honest  marinaro,  would  ac- 
cept one  baiocco  from  an  accursed  brigand!    Ill-luck  would 


86  VENDETTA ! 

follow  me  ever  after!  Nay,  nay — there  has  been  a  mistake ;  I 
know  nothing  of  Carmelo  Neri,  and  I  hope  the  saints  will  grant 
that  I  may  never  meet  him.'* 

He  spoke  with  so  much  apparent  sincerity  that  the  officers 
in  command  were  evidently  puzzled,  though  the  fact  of  their 
being  so  did  not  deter  them  from  searching  the  brig  thor- 
oughly. Disappointed  in  their  expectations,  they  questioned 
all  on  board,  including  myself,  but  were,  of  course,  unable  to 
obtain  any  satisfactory  replies.  Fortunately  they  accepted 
my  costume  as  a  sign  of  my  trade,  and  though  they  glanced 
curiously  at  my  white  hair,  they  seemed  to  think  there  was 
nothing  suspicious  about  me.  After  a  few  more  effusive 
compliments  and  civilities  on  the  part  of  the  captain,  they 
took  their  departure,  completely  baffled,  and  quite  convinced 
that  the  information  they  had  received  had  been  somehow 
incorrect.  As  soon  as  they  were  out  of  sight  the  merry 
Andrea  capered  on  his  deck  like  a  child  in  a  playground,  and 
snapped  his  fingers  defiantly. 

''Per  Bacco!"  he  cried,  ecstatically,  "they  should  as  soon 
make  a  priest  tell  confessional  secrets  as  force  me,  honest 
Andrea  Luziani,  to  betray  a  man  who  has  given  me  good 
cigars  !  Let  them  run  back  to  Gaeta  and  hunt  in  every  hole 
and  corner  !  Carmelo  may  rest  comfortablj-  in  the  Montemag- 
giore  without  the  shadow  of  a  gendarme  to  disturb  him ! 
Ah,  signor?  "  for  I  had  advanced  to  bid  him  farewell — "I  am 
truly  sorry  to  part  company  with  you  !  You  do  not  blame  me 
for  helping  a  poor  devil  who  trusts  me  ?  " 

"Not  I!"  I  answered  him  heartily.  "On  the  contrary,  I 
would  there  were  more  like  you.  Addio  !  and  with  this,''  here 
I  gave  him  the  passage  money  we  had  agreed  upon,  "accept 
my  thanks.  I  shall  not  forget  your  kindness;  if  you  ever  need 
a  friend  send  to  me." 

"But,"  he  said,  with  a  naive  mingling  of  curiosity  and 
timidity,  "  how  can  I  do  that  if  the  signor  does  not  tell  me  his 
name  ?  '' 

I  had  thought  of  this  during  the  past  night.  I  knew  it  would 
be  necessary  to  take  a  different  name,  and  I  had  resolved  on 
adopting  that  of  a  school  friend,  a  boy  to  whom  I  had  been 
profoundly  attached  in  my  earliest  youth,  and  who  had  been 
drowned  before  my  eyes  while  bathing  in  the  Venetian  lyido. 
So  I  answered  Andrea's  question  at  once  and  without  effort. 

"A.sk  for  the  Count  Cesare  Olivia,"  I  said.     "I  shall  return 


vendetta!  87 

to  Naples  shortly,  and  should  you  seek  me,  you  will  find  me 
there." 

The  Sicilian  doffed  his  cap  and  saluted  me  profoundly. 

"I  guessed  well,"  he  remarked,  smilingly,  "that  the  Signer 
Conte's  hands  were  not  those  of  a  coral-fisher.  Oh,  yes!  I 
know  a  gentleman  when  I  see  him,  though  we  Sicilians  say 
we  are  all  gentlemen.  It  is  a  good  boast,  but  alas!  not  always 
true !  A  rivederci,  signor !  Command  me  when  you  will — I 
am  your  servant!" 

Pressing  his  hand,  I  sprung  lightly  from  the  brig  on  to  the 
quay. 

"A  rivederci!"  I  called  to  him.  "Again,  and  yet  again,  a 
thousand  thanks !" 

"  Oh!  tropp'  onore,  signor — tropp"  onore  !  "  znA.  thus  I  left  him 
standing,  still  bareheaded,  on  the  deck  of  his  little  vessel, 
with  a  kindly  light  on  his  brown  face  like  the  reflection  of  a 
fadeless  sunbeam.  Good-hearted,  merry  rogue !  His  ideas  of 
right  and  wrong  were  oddly  mixed — yet  his  lies  were  better 
than  many  truths  told  us  by  our  candid  friends ;  and  you  may 
be  certain  the  great  Recording  Angel  knows  the  difference 
between  a  lie  that  saves  and  a  truth  that  kills,  and  metes  out 
Heaven's  reward  or  punishment  accordingly. 

My  first  care,  when  I  found  myself  in  the  streets  of  Palermo, 
was  to  purchase  clothes  of  the  best  material  and  make,  adapted 
to  a  gentleman's  wear.  I  explained  to  the  tailor  whose  shop 
I  entered  for  this  purpose  that  I  had  joined  a  party  of  coral- 
fishers  for  mere  amusement,  and  had  for  the  time  adopted  their 
costume.  He  believed  my  story  the  more  readily  as  I  ordered 
him  to  make  several  more  suits  for  me  immediately,  giving 
him  the  name  of  Count  Cesare  Oliva,  and  the  address  of  the 
best  hotel  in  the  city.  He  served  me  with  obsequious  humil- 
ity, and  allowed  me  the  use  of  his  private  back  room,  where  I 
discarded  my  fisher  garb  for  the  dress  of  a  gentleman — a 
ready-made  suit  that  happened  to  fit  me  passably  well.  Thus 
arrayed  as  became  my  station,  I  engaged  rooms  at  the  chief 
hotel  of  Palermo  for  some  weeks — weeks  that  were  for  me  full 
of  careful  preparation  for  the  task  of  vengeful  retribution  that 
lay  before  me.  One  of  my  principal  objects  was  to  place  the 
money  I  had  with  me  in  safe  hands.  I  sought  out  the  leading 
banker  in  Palermo,  and,  introducing  myself  under  my  adopted 
name,  I  stated  that  I  had  newly  returned  to  Sicily  after  soma 
years'  absence.     He  received  me  well,  and  though  he  appeared 


88  vendetta! 

astonishea  at  the  large  amount  of  wealth  I  had  brought,  he 
was  eager  and  willing  enough  to  make  satisfactory  arrange- 
ments with  me  for  its  safe  keeping,  including  the  bag  of 
jewels,  some  of  which,  from  their  unusual  size  and  lustre, 
excited  his  genuine  admiration.  Seeing  this,  I  pressed  on  his 
acceptance  a  fine  emerald  and  two  large  brilliants,  all  unset; 
and  requested  him  to  have  a  ring  made  of  them  for  his  own 
wear.  Surprised  at  my  generosity,  he  at  first  refused,  but 
his  natural  wish  to  possess  such  rare  gems  finally  prevailed; 
and  he  took  them,  overpowering  me  with  thanks — while  I  was 
perfectly  satisfied  to  see  that  I  had  secured  his  services  so 
thoroughly  by  my  jeweled  bribe  that  he  either  forgot  or  else 
saw  no  necessity  to  ask  me  for  personal  references,  which  in 
my  position  would  have  been  exceedingly  difficult,  if  not  im- 
possible, to  obtain.  When  this  business  transaction  was 
entirely  completed,  I  devoted  myself  to  my  next  considera- 
tion— which  was  to  disguise  myself  so  utterly  that  no  one 
should  possibly  be  able  to  recognize  the  smallest  resemblance 
in  me  to  the  late  Fabio  Romani,  either  by  look,  voice,  or  trick 
of  manner.  I  had  always  worn  a  mustache — it  had  turned 
white  in  company  with  my  hair.  I  now  allowed  my  beard  to 
grow — it  came  out  white  also.  But  in  contrast  with  these 
contemporary  signs  of  age,  my  face  began  to  fill  up  and  look 
young  again ;  my  eyes,  always  large  and  dark,  resumed  their 
old  flashing,  half-defiant  look — a  look,  which  it  seemed  to  me, 
would  make  some  familiar  suggestion  to  those  who  had  once 
known  me  as  I  was  before  I  died.  Yes,  they  spoke  of  things 
that  must  be  forgotten  and  unuttered;  what  should  I  do  with 
these  tell-tale  eyes  of  mine? 

I  thought,  and  soon  decided.  Nothing  was  easier  than  to 
feign  weak  sight — sight  that  was  dazzled  by  the  heat  and  bril- 
liancy of  the  Southern  sunshine ;  I  would  wear  smoke-colored 
glasses.  I  bought  them  as  soon  as  the  idea  occurred  to  me, 
and  alone  in  my  room  before  the  mirror  I  tried  their  effect. 
I  was  satisfied;  they  perfectly  completed  the  disguise  of  my 
face.  With  them  and  my  white  hair  and  beard,  I  looked  like 
a  well-preserved  man  of  fifty-five  or  so,  whose  only  physical 
ailment  was  a  slight  affection  of  the  eyes. 

The  next  thing  to  alter  was  my  voice.  I  had,  naturally,  a 
peculiarly  soft  voice  and  a  rapid,  yet  clear,  enunciation,  and  it 
was  my  habit,  as  it  is  the  habit  of  almost  every  Italian,  to 
accompany  my  words  with  the  expressive  pantomime  of  ges- 


vendetta!  89 

ttire.  I  took  myself  in  training  as  an  actor  studies  for  a  par- 
ticular part.  I  cultivated  a  harsh  accent,  and  spoke  with 
deliberation  and  coldness — occasionally  with  a  sort  of  sarcastic 
brusquerie,  carefully  avoiding  the  least  movement  of  hands  or 
head  during  converse.  This  was  exceedingly  difficult  of 
attainment  to  me,  and  took  me  an  infinite  deal  of  time  and 
trouble;  but  I  had  for  my  model  a  middle-aged  Englishman 
who  was  staying  in  the  same  hotel  as  myself,  and  whose 
starched  stolidity  never  relaxed  for  a  single  instant.  He  was 
a  human  iceberg — perfectly  respectable,  with  that  air  of  decent 
gloom  about  him  which  is  generally  worn  by  all  the  sons  of 
Britain  while  sojourning  in  a  foreign  clime.  I  copied  his 
manners  as  closely  as  possible ;  I  kept  my  mouth  shut  with 
the  same  precise  air  of  not-to-be-enlightened  obstinacy — I 
walked  with  the  same  upright  drill  demeanor — and  I  surveyed 
the  scenery  with  the  same  superior  contempt.  I  knew  I  had 
succeeded  at  last,  for  I  overheard  a  waiter  speaking  of  me  to 
his  companion  as  "  the  white  bear!" 

One  other  thing  I  did.  I  wrote  a  courteous  note  to  the 
editor  of  the  principal  newspaper  published  in  Naples — a 
newspaper  that  I  knew  always  found  its  way  to  the  Villa 
Romani — and  inclosing  fifty  francs  I  requested  him  to  insert 
a  paragraph  for  me  in  his  next  issue.  This  paragraph  was 
worded  somewhat  as  follows: 

"  The  Signer  Conte  Cesare  Oliva,  a  nobleman  who  has  been 
for  many  years  absent  from  his  native  country,  has,  we  under- 
stand, just  returned,  possessed  of  almost  fabulous  wealth,  and 
is  about  to  arrive  in  Naples,  where  he  purposes  making  his 
home  for  the  future.  The  leaders  of  society  here  will  no 
doubt  welcome  with  enthusiasm  so  distinguished  an  addition 
to  the  brilliant  circles  commanded  by  their  influence." 

The  editor  obeyed  my  wishes,  and  inserted  what  I  sent  him, 
word  for  word,  as  it  was  written.  He  sent  me  the  paper  con- 
taining it  "  with  a  million  compliments,"  but  was  discreetly 
silent  concerning  the  fifty  francs,  though  I  am  certain  he 
pocketed  them  with  unaffected  joy.  Had  I  sent  him  double 
the  money,  he  might  have  been  induced  to  announce  me  as  s 
king  or  emperor  in  disguise.  Editors  of  newspapers  lay  claim 
to  be  honorable  men ;  they  may  be  so  in  England,  but  in  Italy 
most  of  them  would  do  anything  for  money.  Poor  de\'ils! 
who  can  blame  them,  considering  how  little  they  get  by  their 
limited  dealings  in  pen  and  ink?    In  fact,  I  am  not  at  all  cer- 


go  vendetta! 

tain  but  that  a  few  English  newspaper  editors  might  be  found 
capable  of  accepting  a  bribe,  if  large  enough,  and  if  offered 
with  due  delicacy.  There  are  surely  one  or  two  magazines, 
for  instance,  in  London,  that  would  not  altogether  refuse  to 
insert  an  indifferently,  even  badly,  written  article,  if  paid  a 
thousand  pounds  down  for  doing  it ! 

On  the  last  day  but  one  of  my  sojourn  in  Palermo  I  was  re- 
clining in  an  easy-chair  at  the  window  of  the  hotel  smoking- 
room,  looking  out  on  the  shimmering  waters  of  the  gulf.  It 
was  nearly  eight  o'clock,  and  though  the  gorgeous  colors  of 
the  sunset  still  lingered  in  the  sky,  the  breeze  blew  in  from 
the  sea  somewhat  coldly,  giving  warning  of  an  approaching 
chilly  night.  The  character  I  had  adopted,  namely  that  of  a 
somewhat  harsh  and  cynical  man  who  had  seen  life  and  did 
not  like  it,  had  by  constant  hourly  practice  become  with  me 
almost  second  nature — indeed,  I  should  have  had  some  diffi- 
culty in  returning  to  the  easy  and  thoughtless  abandon  of  my 
former  self.  I  had  studied  the  art  of  being  churlish  till  I 
really  was  churlish;  I  had  to  act  the  chief  character  in  a 
drama,  and  I  knew  my  part  thoroughly  well.  I  sat  quietly 
puffing  at  my  cigar  and  thinking  of  nothing  in  particular,  for, 
as  far  as  my  plans  went,  I  had  done  with  thought,  and  all  my 
energies  were  strung  up  to  action,  when  I  was  startled  by  a 
loud  and  increasing  clamor,  as  of  the  shouting  of  a  large 
crowd  coming  onward  like  an  overflowing  tide.  I  leaned  out 
of  the  window,  but  could  see  nothing,  and  I  was  wondering 
what  the  noise  could  mean  when  an  excited  waiter  threw 
open  the  door  of  the  smoking-room  and  cried,  breathlessly : 

"  Carmelo  Neri,  signor!  Carmelo  Neri!  They  have  him, 
Poverino!  they  have  him  at  last !" 

Though  almost  as  strongly  interested  in  this  news  as  the 
waiter  himself,  I  did  not  permit  my  interest  to  become  mani- 
fest. I  never  forgot  for  a  second  the  character  I  had  assumed, 
and  drawing  the  cigar  slowly  from  my  lips  I  merely  said : 

"  Then  they  have  caught  a  great  rascal.  I  congratulate  the 
Government!    Where  is  the  fellow?" 

"In  the  great  square,"  returned  the  garpn,  eagerly.  "If 
the  signor  would  walk  round  the  corner  he  would  see  Carmelo, 
bound  and  fettered.  The  saints  have  mercy  upon  him !  The 
crowds  there  are  thick  as  flies  round  a  honeycomb !  I  must  go 
thither  myself — I  would  not  miss  the  sight  for  a  thousand 
francs  I" 


vendetta!  j^i 

And  ho  ran  off,  as  full  of  the  anticipated  delight  of  looking 
at  a  brigand  as  a  child  going  to  its  first  fair,  I  put  on  my  hat 
and  strolled  leisurely  round  to  the  scene  of  excitement.  It 
was  a  picturesque  sight  enough ;  the  square  was  black  with  a 
sea  of  eager  heads  and  restless,  gesticulating  figures,  and  the 
center  of  this  swaying,  muttering  crowd  was  occupied  by  a 
compact  band  of  mounted  gendarmes  with  drawn  swords 
flashing  in  the  pale  evening  light,  both  horses  and  men  nearly 
as  motionless  as  though  cast  in  bronze.  They  were  stationed 
opposite  the  head-quarters  of  the  Carabinieri,  where  the  chief 
officer  of  the  party  had  dismounted  to  make  his  formal  report 
respecting  the  details  of  the  capture  before  proceeding  further. 
Between  these  armed  and  watchful  guards,  with  his  legs 
strapped  to  a  sturdy  mule,  his  arms  tied  fast  behind  him,  and 
his  hands  heavily  manacled,  was  the  notorious  Neri,  as  dark 
and  fierce  as  a  mountain  thunder-storm.  His  head  was  un- 
covered— his  thick  hair,  long  and  unkempt,  hung  in  matted 
locks  upon  his  shoulders — his  heavy  mustachios  and  beard 
were  so  black  and  bushy  that  they  almost  concealed  his  coarse 
and  forbidding  features — though  I  could  see  the  tiger-like 
glitter  of  his  sharp  white  teeth  as  he  bit  and  gnawed  his  under 
lip  in  impotent  fury  and  despair — and  his  eyes,  like  leaping 
flames,  blazed  with  a  wrathful  ferocity  from  under  his  shaggy 
brows.  He  was  a  huge,  heavy  man,  broad  and  muscular;  his 
two  great  hands  clinched,  tied  and  manacled  behind  him, 
looked  like  formidable  hammers  capable  of  striking  a  man 
down  dead  at  one  blow ;  his  whole  aspect  was  repulsive  and 
terrible ;  there  was  no  redeeming  point  about  him,  for  even 
the  apparent  fortitude  he  assumed  was  mere  bravado — mere- 
tricious courage — which  the  first  week  of  the  galleys  would 
crush  out  of  him  as  easily  as  one  crushes  the  juice  out  of  a 
ripe  grape.  He  wore  a  nondescript  costume  of  vari-colored 
linen,  arranged  in  folds  that  would  have  been  the  admiration 
of  an  artist.  It  was  gathered  about  him  by  means  of  a  brill- 
iant scarlet  sash,  negligently  tied.  His  brawny  arms  were 
bare  to  the  shoulder;  his  vest  was  open,  and  displayed  his 
strong  brown  throat  and  chest  heaving  with  the  pent-up  anger 
and  fear  that  raged  within  him.  His  dark  grim  figure  was  set 
off  by  a  curious  effect  of  color  in  the  sky — a  long  wide  band  of 
crimson  cloud,  as  though  the  sun-god  had  thrown  down  a  gob- 
let of  ruby  wine  and  left  it  to  trickle  along  the  smooth  blue 
fairness  of  his  palace  floor — a  deep  after-glow,  which  burned 


92  vendetta! 

redly  on  the  olive-tinted  eager  faces  of  tiie  multitude  that 
were  everywhere  upturned  in  wonder  and  ill-judged  admira- 
tion to  the  brutal  black  face  of  the  notorious  murderer  and 
thief,  whose  name  had  for  years  been  the  terror  of  Sicily.  I 
pressed  through  the  crowd  to  obtain  a  nearer  view,  and  as  I 
did  so  a  sudden  savage  movement  of  Neri's  bound  body  caused 
the  gendarmes  to  cross  their  swords  in  front  of  his  eyes  with 
a  warning  clash.     The  brigand  laughed  hoarsely. 

"  Corpo  di  Crista!"  he  muttered ;  "  think  you  a  man  tied  hand 
and  foot  can  run  like  a  deer?  I  am  trapped — I  know  it!  But 
tell  him,"  and  he  indicated  some  person  in  the  throng  by  a 
nod  of  his  head,  "  tell  him  to  come  hither.  I  have  a  message 
for  him." 

The  gendarmes  looked  at  one  another,  and  then  at  the  sway- 
ing crowd  about  them  in  perplexity — they  did  not  under- 
stand. 

Carmelo,  without  wasting  more  words  upon  them,  raised 
himself  as  uprightly  as  he  could  in  his  strained  and  bound 
position,  and  called  aloud: 

"  Luigi  Biscardi !  Capitano!  Oh  he — you  thought  I  could 
not  see  you!  Dio!  I  should  know  you  in  hell !  Come  near 
— I  have  a  parting  word  for  you." 

At  the  sound  of  his  strong  harsh  voice,  a  silence  half  of 
terror,  half  of  awe,  fell  upon  the  chattering  multitude.  There 
was  a  sudden  stir  as  the  people  made  way  for  a  young  man  to 
pass  through  their  ranks — a  slight,  tall,  rather  handsome  fel- 
low, with  a  pale  face  and  cold,  sneering  eyes.  He  was  dressed 
with  fastidious  care  and  neatness  in  the  uniform  of  the  Bersagl- 
iere,  and  he  elbowed  his  way  along  with  the  easy  audacity  of 
a  privileged  dandy.  He  came  close  up  to  the  brigand  and 
spoke  carelessly,  with  a  slightly  mocking  smile  playing  round 
the  corners  of  his  mouth. 

"  Ebbenef  he  said,  "  you  are  caught  at  last,  Carmelo  1  You 
called  me — here  I  am.     What  do  you  want  with  me,  rascal?" 

Neri  uttered  a  ferocious  curse  between  his  teeth,  and 
looked  for  an  instant  like  a  wild  beast  ready  to  spring. 

"  You  betrayed  me,"  he  said  in  fierce  yet  smothered  accents 
— "you  followed  me — you  hunted  me  down !  Teresa  told  me 
all.  Yes ;  she  belongs  to  you  now — you  have  got  your  wish  I 
Go  and  take  her;  she  waits  for  you;  make  her  speak  and  tell 
you  how  she  loves  you — if  you  can!" 

Something  jeering  and  withal  threatening  in  the  ruffian's 


VENDETTA !  93 

lowk  evidently  startled  the  young  officer,  for  he  exclaimed 
hastily: 

"  What  do  you  mean,  wretch?  You  have  not — my  God,  you 
have  npt  killed  her?" 

Carmelo  broke  into  a  loud  savage  laugh. 

"  Sha  has  killed  herself,"  he  cried,  exultingly.  "Ha,  ha!  I 
thought  you  would  wince  at  that !  She  snatched  my  knife  and 
stabbed  herself  with  it!  Yes,  rather  than  see  your  lying 
white  face  again — rather  than  feel  your  accursed  touch !  Find 
her;  she  lies  dead  and  smiling  up  there  in  the  mountains,  and 
her  last  kiss  was  for  me — for  7tie — you  understand !  Now  go ! 
and  may  the  devil  curse  you ! " 

Again  the  gendarmes  clashed  their  swords  suggestively, 
and  the  brigand  resumed  his  sullen  attitude  of  suppressed 
wrath  and  feigned  indifference.  But  the  man  to  whom  he 
had  spoken  staggered  and  seemed  about  to  fall,  his  pale  face 
grew  paler,  he  moved  away  through  the  curious  open-eyed 
bystanders  with  the  mechanical  air  of  one  who  knows  not 
whether  he  be  alive  or  dead.  He  had  evidently  received  an 
unexpected  shock — a  wound  that  pierced  deeply  and  would  be 
a  long  time  healing. 

I  approached  the  nearest  gendarme  and  slipped  a  five-franc 
piece  into  his  hand. 

"  May  one  speak?"  I  asked,  carelessly.     The  man  hesitated. 

"  For  one  instant,  signor.     But  be  brief." 

I  addressed  the  brigand  in  a  low  clear  tone. 

"Have  you  any  message  for  one  Andrea  Luziani?  I  am  a 
friend  of  his." 

He  looked  at  me  and  a  dark  smile  crossed  his  features. 

"  Andrea  is  a  good  soul.  Tell  him  if  you  will  that  Teresa  is 
dead.  I  am  worse  than  dead.  He  will  know  that  I  did  not 
kill  Teresa.  I  could  not!  She  had  the  knife  in  her  breast  be- 
fore I  could  prevent  her.     It  is  better  so." 

"  She  did  that  rather  than  become  the  property  of  another 
man?"  I  queried. 

Carmelo  Neri  nodded  in  acquiescence.  Either  my  sight 
deceived  me,  or  else  this  abandoned  villain  had  tears  glitter- 
ing in  the  depth  of  his  wicked  eyes. 

The  gendarme  made  me  a  sign,  and  I  withdrew.  Almost  at 
the  same  moment  the  officer  in  command  of  the  little  detach- 
ment appeared,  his  spurs  clinking  with  measured  metallic 
music  on  the  hard  stones  of  the  pavement — he  sprang  into  his 


94  vendetta! 

saddle  and  git^>  J  the  word — the  crowd  disperseu  to  the  right 
and  left ;  the  horses  were  put  to  a  quick  trot,  and  in  a  few 
moments  the  whole  party  with  the  bulky,  frowning  form  of  the 
brigand  in  their  midst  had  disappeared.  The  people  broke  up 
into  little  groups,  talking  excitedly  of  what  had  occurred,  and 
scattered  here  and  there,  returning  to  their  homes  and  occu- 
pations ;  and  more  swiftly  than  one  could  have  imagined  pos- 
sible, the  great  square  was  left  almost  empty.  I  paced  up 
and  down  for  awhile  thinking  deeply;  I  had  before  my  mind's 
eye  the  picture  of  the  slight  fair  Teresa  as  described  by  the 
Sicilian  captain,  lying  dead  in  the  solitudes  of  the  Montemag- 
giore  with  that  self-inflicted  wound  in  her  breast  which  had 
set  her  free  of  all  men's  love  and  persecution.  There  were 
some  women  then  who  preferred  death  to  infidelity?  Strange ! 
very  strange !  common  women  of  course  they  must  be — such 
as  this  brigand's  mistress;  your  daintily  fed,  silk-robed 
duchess  would  find  a  dagger  somewhat  a  vulgar  consoler — she 
would  rather  choose  a  lover,  or  better  still  a  score  of  lovers. 
It  is  only  brute  ignorance  that  selects  a  grave  instead  of  dis- 
honor ;  modern  education  instructs  us  more  wisely,  and  teaches 
Tis  not  to  be  over-squeamish  about  such  a  trifle  as  breaking  a 
given  word  or  promise.  Blessed  age  of  progress!  Age  of 
steady  advancement,  when  the  apple  of  vice  is  so  cunningly 
disguised  and  so  prettily  painted  that  we  can  actually  set  it  on 
a  porcelain  dish  and  hand  it  about  among  our  friends  as  a 
valuable  and  choice  fruit  of  virtue — and  no  one  finds  out  the 
fraud  we  are  practising,  nay,  we  scarcely  perceive  it  ourselves, 
it  is  such  an  excellent  counterfeit! 

As  I  walked  to  and  fro,  I  found  myself  continually  passing 
the  head  office  of  the  Carabinieri,  and,  acting  on  a  sudden 
impulse  of  curiosity,  I  at  last  entered  the  building,  deter- 
mined to  ask  for  a  few  particulars  concerning  the  brigand's 
capture.  I  was  received  by  a  handsome  and  intelligent-look- 
ing man,  who  glanced  at  the  card  with  which  I  presented  my- 
self, and  saluted  me  with  courteous  affability. 

"  Oh,  yes !"  he  said,  in  answer  to  my  inquiries,  "  Neri  has 
given  us  a  great  deal  of  trouble.  But  we  had  our  suspicions 
that  he  had  left  Gaeta,  where  he  was  for  a  time  in  hiding.  A 
few  stray  bits  of  information  gleaned  here  and  there  put  us  on 
the  right  track." 

"  Was  he  caught  easily,  or  did  he  show  fight?" 

"He  gave  himself  up  like  a  lamb,  signor!     It  happened  in 


vendetta!  95 

this  way.  One  of  our  men  followed  the  woman  who  lived 
with  Neri,  one  Teresa,  and  traced  her  up  to  a  certain  point, 
the  corner  of  a  narrow  mountain  pass,  where  she  disappeared. 
He  reported  this,  and  thereupon  we  sent  out  an  armed  party. 
These  crept  at  midnight,  two  by  two,  till  they  were  formed  in 
a  close  ring  round  the  place  where  Neri  was  judged  to  be. 
With  the  first  beam  of  morning  they  rushed  in  upon  him  and 
took  him  prisoner.  It  appears  that  he  showed  no  surprise ;  he 
merely  said,  'I  expected  you!'  He  was  found  sitting  by  the 
dead  body  of  his  mistress;  she  was  stabbed  and  newly  bleed- 
ing. No  doubt  he  killed  her,  though  he  swears  the  contrary- 
lies  are  as  easy  to  him  as  breathing." 

"  But  where  was  his  comrades?  I  thought  he  commanded  a 
large  band?" 

"  So  he  did,  signor ;  and  we  caught  three  of  the  principals 
only  a  fortnight  ago,  but  of  the  others  no  trace  can  be  found. 
I  suppose  Carmelo  himself  dismissed  them  and  sent  them  far 
and  wide  through  the  country.  At  any  rate,  they  are  dis- 
banded, and  with  these  sort  of  fellows  where  there  is  no  union 
there  is  no  danger." 

"And  Neri's  sentence?"  I  asked. 

"Oh,  the  galleys  for  life  of  course;  there  is  no  possible 
alternative." 

I  thanked  my  informant,  and  left  the  office.  I  was  glad  to 
have  learned  these  few  particulars,  for  the  treasure  I  had  dis- 
covered in  my  own  family  vault  was  now  more  mine  than 
ever.  There  was  not  the  remotest  chance  of  any  one  of  the 
Neri  band  venturing  so  close  to  Naples  in  search  of  it,  and 
I  thought  with  a  grim  smile  that  had  the  brigand  chief  himself 
known  the  story  of  my  wrongs,  he  would  most  probably  have 
rejoiced  to  think  that  his  buried  wealth  was  destined  to  aid 
me  in  carrying  out  so  elaborate  a  plan  of  vengeance.  All 
difficulties  smoothed  themselves  before  me — obstacles  were 
taken  out  of  my  path — my  way  was  made  perfectly  clear — 
each  trifling  incident  was  a  new  finger-post  pointing  out  the 
direct  road  that  led  me  to  the  one  desired  end.  God  himself 
seemed  on  my  side,  as  He  is  surely  ever  on  the  side  of  justice! 
Let  not  the  unfaithful  think  that  because  they  say  long  pray- 
ers, or  go  regularly  and  devoutly  to  church  with  meek  faces 
and  piously  folded  hands,  that  the  Eternal  Wisdom  is  deceived 
thereby.  My  wife  could  pray — she  could  kneel  like  a  lovely 
saint  in  the  dim  religious  light  of  the  sacred  altars,  her  deep 


g6  vendetta! 

eyes  upturned  to  the  blameless,  infinitely  reproachful  Christ — 
and  look  you !  each  word  she  uttered  was  a  blasphemy,  des- 
tined to  come  back  upon  herself  as  a  curse.  Prayer  is  danger- 
ous for  liars ;  it  is  like  falling  wilfully  on  an  upright  naked 
sword.  Used  as  an  honorable  weapon  the  sword  defends; 
snatched  up  as  the  last  resource  of  a  coward  it  kills. 


CHAPTER  XL 

The  third  week  of  September  was  drawing  to  its  close  when 
I  returned  to  Naples.  The  weather  had  grown  cooler,  and 
favorable  reports  of  the  gradual  decrease  of  the  cholera  began 
to  gain  ground  with  the  suffering  and  terrified  population. 
Business  was  resumed  as  usual,  pleasure  had  again  her  vota- 
ries, and  society  whirled  round  once  more  in  its  giddy  waltz 
as  though  it  had  never  left  off  dancing.  I  arrived  in  the  city 
somewhat  early  in  the  day,  and  had  time  to  make  some  pre- 
liminary arrangements  for  my  plan  of  action.  I  secured  the 
most  splendid  suite  of  apartments  in  the  best  hotel,  impress- 
ing the  whole  establishment  with  a  vast  idea  of  my  wealth  and 
importance.  I  casually  mentioned  to  the  landlord  that  I  de- 
sired to  purchase  a  carriage  and  horses — that  I  needed  a  first- 
class  valet,  and  a  few  other  trifles  of  the  like  sort,  and  added 
that  I  relied  on  his  good  advice  and  recommendation  as  to  the 
places  where  I  should  best  obtain  all  that  I  sought.  Needless 
to  say,  he  became  my  slave — never  was  monarch  better  served 
than  I — the  very  waiters  hustled  each  other  in  a  race  to  attend 
upon  me,  and  reports  of  my  princely  fortune,  generosity,  and 
lavish  expenditure  began  to  flit  from  mouth  to  mouth,  which 
was  the  result  I  desired  to  obtain. 

And  now  the  evening  of  my  first  day  in  Naples  came,  and  I, 
the  supposed  Conte  Cesare  Oliva,  the  envied  and  flattered 
noble,  took  the  first  step  toward  my  vengeance.  It  was  one 
of  the  loveliest  evenings  possible,  even  in  that  lovely  land;  a 
soft  breeze  blew  in  from  the  sea,  the  sky  was  pearl-like  and 
pure  as  an  opal,  yet  bright  with  delicate  shifting  clouds  of 
crimson  and  pale  mauve — small,  fleecy  flecks  of  radiance,  that 
looked  like  a  shower  of  blossoms  fallen  from  some  far  invisible 
flower-land.  The  waters  of  the  bay  were  slightly  ruffled  by 
the  wind,  and  curled  into  tender  little  dark-blue  waves  tipped 


vendetta!  97 

with  light  fringes  of  foam.  After  my  dinner  I  went  out  and 
took  my  way  to  a  well-known  and  popular  cafi  which  used  to 
be  a  favorite  haunt  of  mine  in  the  days  when  I  was  known  as 
Fabio  Romani.  Guido  Ferrari  was  a  constant  habitud  of  the 
place,  and  I  felt  that  I  should  find  him  there.  The  brilliant 
rose-white  and  gold  saloons  were  crowded,  and  owing  to  the 
pleasant  coolness  of  the  air  there  were  hundreds  of  little  tables 
pushed  far  out  into  the  street,  at  which  groups  of  persons  were 
seated,  enjoying  ices,  wine,  or  coflfee,  and  congratulating  each 
other  on  the  agreeable  news  of  the  steady  decrease  of  the  pes- 
tilence that  had  ravaged  the  city.  I  glanced  covertly  yet 
quickly  round.  Yes!  I  was  not  mistaken — there  was  my 
quondam  friend,  my  traitorous  foe,  sitting  at  his  ease,  leaning 
comfortably  back  in  one  chair,  his  feet  put  up  on  another. 
He  was  smoking,  and  glancing  now  and  then  through  the 
columns  of  the  Paris  "  Figaro."  He  was  dressed  entirely  in 
black,  a  hypocritical  livery,  the  somber  hue  of  which  suited 
his  fine  complexion  and  perfectly  handsome  features  to  ad- 
miration. On  the  little  finger  of  the  shapely  hand  that  every 
now  and  then  was  raised  to  adjust  his  cigar  sparkled  a 
diamond  that  gave  out  a  myriad  scintillations  as  it  flashed 
in  the  evening  light — it  was  of  exceptional  size  and  brilliancy, 
and  even  at  a  distance  I  recognized  it  as  my  own  property ! 

So!  a  love-gift,  signor,  or  an  in  memoriam  of  the  dear  and 
valued  friend  you  have  lost?  I  wondered,  watching  him  in 
dark  scorn  the  while — then  recollecting  myself,  I  sauntered 
slowly  toward  him,  and  perceiving  a  disengaged  table  next  to 
his,  I  drew  a  chair  to  it  and  sat  down.  He  looked  at  me  in- 
differently over  the  top  of  his  newspaper — but  there  was  noth- 
ing specially  attractive  in  the  sight  of  a  white-haired  man 
wearing  smoke-colored  spectacles,  and  he  resumed  his  perusal 
of  the  "  Figaro"  immediately.  I  rapped  the  end  of  my  walk- 
ing-cane on  the  table  and  summoned  a  waiter,  from  whom  I 
ordered  coffee.  I  then  lighted  a  cigar,  and  imitating  Ferrari's 
easy  posture,  smoked  also.  Something  in  my  attitude  then 
appeared  to  strike  him,  for  he  laid  down  his  paper  and  again 
looked  at  me,  this  time  with  more  interest  and  something  ot 
uneasiness.  "  pz  commence,  mon  ami  /"  I  thought,  but  I  turned 
my  head  slightly  aside  and  feigned  to  be  absorbed  in  the 
the  view.  My  coffee  was  brought,  I  paid  for  it  and  tossed  the 
waiter  an  unusually  large  gratuity.  He  naturally  found  it  in- 
cumbent upon  him  to  polish  my  table  with  extra  zeal,  and  to 
? 


98  VENDETTA ! 

secure  all  the  newspapers,  pictorial  or  otherwise,  that  were 
lying  about,  for  the  purpose  of  obsequiously  depositing  them 
in  a  heap  at  my  right  hand.  I  addressed  this  amiable  gar^on  in 
the  harsh  and  deliberate  accents  of  my  carefully  disguised  voice. 

"  By  the  way,  I  suppose  you  know  Naples  well?" 

"  Oh  SI,  signer." 

"  Ebbene,  can  you  tell  me  the  way  to  the  house  of  one  Count 
Fabio  Romani,  a  wealthy  nobleman  of  this  city?" 

Ha !  a  good  hit  this  time !  Though  apparently  not  looking 
at  him  I  saw  Ferrari  start  as  though  he  had  been  stung,  and 
then  compose  himself  in  his  seat  with  an  air  of  attention. 
The  waiter  meanwhile,  in  answer  to  my  questions,  raised  his 
hands,  eyes  and  shoulders  all  together  with  a  shrug  expressive 
of  resigned  melancholy. 

"  Ah,  gran  Dio!  e  viorte .'" 

"  Dead !"  I  exclaimed,  with  a  pretended  start  of  shocked 
surprise.     "  So  young?     Impossible !" 

"  Eh !  what  will  you,  signor?  It  was  la  pesia;  there  was  no 
remedy.  La  pesia  cares  nothing  for  youth  or  age,  and  spares 
neither  rich  nor  poor." 

For  a  moment  I  leaned  my  head  on  my  hand,  affecting  to 
be  overcome  by  the  suddenness  of  the  news.  Then  looking 
up,  I  said,  regretfully : 

"  Alas !  I  am  too  late !  I  was  a  friend  of  his  father.  I  have 
been  away  for  many  years,  and  I  had  a  great  wish  to  meet  the 
young  Romani  whom  I  last  saw  as  a  child.  Are  there  any  re- 
lations of  his  living — was  he  married?" 

The  waiter,  whose  countenance  had  assumed  a  fitting  lugu- 
briousness  in  accordance  with  what  he  imagined  were  my 
feelings,  brightened  up  immediately  as  he  replied  eagerly: 

"  Oh  si,  signor!  The  Contessa  Romani  lives  up  at  the  villa, 
though  I  believe  she  receives  no  one  since  her  husband's 
death.  She  is  young  and  beautiful  as  an  angel.  There  is  a 
little  child  too." 

A  hasty  movement  on  the  part  of  Ferrari  caused  me  to  turn 
my  eyes,  or  rather  my  spectacles,  in  his  direction.  He  leaned 
forward,  and  raising  his  hat  with  the  old  courteous  grace  I 
knew  so  well,  said  politely: 

"  Pardon  me,  signor,  for  interrupting  you!  I  knew  the  late 
young  Count  Romani  well — perhaps  better  than  any  man  in 
Naples.  I  shall  be  delighted  to  afford  you  any  information 
you  may  seek  concerning  him." 


vendetta! 


99 


Oh,  the  old  mellow  music  of  his  voice!  how  it  struck  on  my 
heart  and  pierced  it  like  the  refrain  of  a  familiar  song  loved 
In  the  days  of  our  youth.  For  an  instant  I  could  not  speak — 
A^rath  and  sorrow  choked  my  utterance.  Fortunately  this 
ieeling  was  but  momentary — slowly  I  raised  my  hat  in  re- 
sponse to  his  salutation,  and  answered  stiffly : 

"  I  am  your  servant,  signor.  You  will  oblige  me  indeed  if 
you  can  place  me  in  communication  with  the  relatives  of  this 
unfortunate  young  nobleman.  The  elder  Count  Romani  was 
dearer  to  me  than  a  brother — men  have  such  attachments 
occasionally.  Permit  me  to  introduce  myself,"  and  I  handed 
him  my  visiting-card  with  a  slight  and  formal  bow.  He  ac- 
cepted it,  and  as  he  read  the  name  it  bore  he  gave  me  a  quick 
glance  of  respect  mingled  with  pleased  surprise. 

"The  Conte  Cesare  Oliva!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  esteem  my- 
self most  fortunate  to  have  met  you !  Your  arrival  has  already 
been  notified  to  u?  by  the  avant-courier  of  the  fashionable  in- 
telligence, so  that^  we  are  well  aware,"  here  laughing  lightly, 
"  of  the  distinctive  right  you  have  to  a  hearty  welcome  in 
Naples.  I  am  only  sorry  that  any  distressing  news  should 
have  darkened  the  occasion  of  your  return  here  after  so  long 
an  absence.  Permit  me  to  express  the  hope  that  it  may  at 
least  be  the  only  cloud  for  you  on  our  Southern  sunshine !" 

And  he  extended  his  hand  with  that  ready  frankness  and 
bonhomie  which  are  always  a  part  of  the  Italian  temperament, 
and  were  especially  so  of  his.  A  cold  shudder  ran  through 
my  veins.  God!  could  I  take  his  hand  in  mine?  I  must,  if 
I  would  act  my  part  thoroughly;  for  should  I  refuse  he  would 
think  it  ?-trange,  even  rude — I  should  lose  the  game  by  one 
i false  move.  With  a  forced  smile  I  hesitatingly  held  out  my 
hand  also — it  was  gloved,  3'et  as  he  clasped  it  heartily  in  his 
own  the  warm  pressure  burned  through  the  glove  like  fire.  I 
could  have  cried  out  in  agony,  so  excruciating  was  the  mental 
torture  which  I  endured  at  that  moment.  But  it  passed,  the 
ordeal  was  over,  and  I  knew  that  henceforth  I  should  be 
able  to  shake  hands  with  him  as  often  and  as  indifferently  as 
with  any  other  man.  It  was  only  thisyfr^/  time  that  it  galled 
me  to  the  quick.  Ferrari  noticed  nothing  of  my  emotion ;  he 
was  in  excellent  spirits,  and  turning  to  the  waiter,  who  had 
lingered  to  watch  us  make  each  other's  acquaintance,  he 
exclaimed : 

"  More  coffee,  gar^on,  and  a  couple  of  glorias"    Then  look- 


lOO  VENDETTA. 

ing  toward  me,  "You  do  not  object  to  2^.  gloria,  conte?  No? 
That  is  well.  And  here  is  my  card,"  taking  one  from  his 
pocket  and  laying  it  on  the  table.  "  Guido  Ferrari,  at  your 
service,  an  artist  and  a  very  poor  one.  We  shall  celebrate  our 
meeting  by  drinking  each  other's  health!" 

I  bowed.  The  waiter  vanished  to  execute  his  orders,  and 
Ferrari  drew  his  chair  closer  to  mine. 

"  I  see  you  smoke,"  he  said,  gayly.  "  Can  I  offer  you  one  of 
my  cigars?  They  are  unusually  choice.  Permit  me,"  and  he 
proffered  me  a  richly  embossed  and  emblazoned  silver  cigar- 
case,  with  the  Romani  arms  and  coronet  and  my  ow?i  initials 
engraved  thereon.  It  was  mine,  of  course — I  took  it  with  a 
sensation  of  grim  amusement — I  had  not  seen  it  since  the  day 
Idled! 

"  A  fine  antique,"  I  remarked  carelessly,  turning  it  over  and 
over  in  my  hand ;  "  curious  and  valuable.  A  gift  or  an 
heirloom?" 

"  It  belonged  to  my  late  friend,  Count  Fabio,"  he  answered, 
puffing  a  light  cloud  of  smoke  in  the  air  as  he  drew  his  cigar 
from  his  lips  to  speak.  "  It  was  found  in  his  pocket  by  the 
priest  who  saw  him  die.  That  and  other  trifles  which  he  wore 
on  his  person  were  delivered  to  his  wife,  and " 

"  She  naturally  gave  you  the  cigar-case  as  a  memento  of 
your  friend,"  I  said,  interrupting  him. 

"Just  so.  You  have  guessed  it  exactly.  Thanks,"  and  he 
took  the  case  from  me  as  I  returned  it  to  him  with  a  frank 
smile. 

"  Is  the  Countess  Romani  young?"  I  forced  myself  to  inquire. 

"Young  and  beautiful  as  a  midsummer  morning!"  replied 
Ferrari,  with  enthusiasm.  "  I  doubt  if  sunlight  ever  fell  on  a 
more  enchanting  woman  I  If  you  were  a  young  man,  conte,  I 
should  be  silent  regarding  her  charms ;  but  your  white  hairs 
inspire  one  with  confidence.  I  assure  you  solemnly,  though 
Fabio  was  my  friend,  and  an  excellent  fellow  in  his  way,  he 
was  never  worthy  of  the  woman  he  married !" 

"  Indeed !"  I  said,  coldly,  as  this  dagger-thrust  struck  home 
to  my  heart.  "  I  only  knew  him  when  he  was  quite  a  boy. 
He  seemed  to  me  then  of  a  warm  and  loving  temperament, 
generous  to  a  fault,  perhaps  over-credulous ;  yet  he  promised 
well.  His  father  thought  so;  I  confess  I  thought  so  too. 
Reports  have  reached  me  from  time  to  time  of  the  care  with 
which  he  managed  the  immense  fortune  left  to  him.     He  gave 


vendetta!  10 I 

large  sums  away  in  charity,  did  he  not?  And  was  he  not  a 
lover  of  books  and  simple  pleasures?" 

"  Oh,  I  grant  you  all  that !"  returned  Ferrari,  with  some  im- 
patience. "  He  was  the  most  moral  man  in  immoral  Naples, 
if  you  care  for  that  sort  of  thing.  Studious,  philosophic, 
parfait  geutilhointne,  proud  as  the  devil,  virtuous,  unsuspect- 
ing,  and  withal — a  fool !" 

My  temper  rose  dangerously,  but  I  controlled  it,  and  re- 
membering my  part  in  the  drama  I  had  constructed,  I  broke 
into  violent,  harsh  laughter. 

"  Bravo !"  I  exclaimed.  "  One  can  easily  see  what  a  first- 
rate  young  fellow  yoii  are !  You  have  no  liking  for  moral 
men — ha,  ha !  excellent !  I  agree  with  you.  A  virtuous  man 
and  a  fool  are  synonyms  nowadays.  Yes,  I  have  lived  long 
enough  to  know  that !  And  here  is  our  coffee — behold  also  the 
glorias!  I  drink  your  health  with  pleasure,  Signor  Ferrari ; 
you  and  I  must  be  friends !" 

For  one  moment  he  seemed  startled  by  my  sudden  outburst 
of  mirth — the  next,  he  laughed  heartily  himself,  and  as  the 
waiter  appeared  with  the  coffee  and  cognac,  inspired  by  the 
occasion,  he  made  an  equivocal,  slightly  indelicate  joke  con- 
cerning the  personal  charms  of  a  certain  Antoinetta  whom 
the  gar^on  was  supposed  to  favor  with  an  eye  to  matrimony. 
The  fellow  grinned,  in  no  wise  offended,  and  pocketing  fresh 
gratuities  from  both  Ferrari  and  myself,  departed  on  new 
errands  for  other  customers,  apparently  in  high  good  humor 
with  himself,  Antoinetta  and  the  world  in  general.  Resum- 
ing the  interrupted  conversation  I  said : 

"  And  this  poor  weak-minded  Romani — was  his  death 
sudden?" 

"  Remarkably  so,"  answered  Ferrari,  leaning  back  in  his 
chair,  and  turning  his  handsome  flushed  face  up  to  the  sky 
where  the  stars  were  beginning  to  twinkle  out  one  by  one;  "  it 
appears  from  all  accounts  that  he  rose  early  and  went  out  for 
a  walk  on  one  of  those  insufferably  hot  August  mornings,  and 
at  the  furthest  limit  of  the  villa  grounds  he  came  upon  a  fruit- 
seller  dying  of  cholera.  Of  course,  with  his  quixotic  ideas, 
he  must  needs  stay  and  talk  to  the  boy,  and  then  run  like  a 
madman  through  the  heat  into  Naples  to  find  a  doctor  for 
him.  Instead  of  a  physician  he  met  a  priest,  and  he  was  tak- 
ing this  priest  to  the  assistance  of  the  fruit-seller  (who  by  the 
bye  died  in  the  mean  lime  and  was  past  all  caring  for)  when 


I02  vendetta!  '^ 

he  himself  was  struck  down  by  the  plague.  He  was  carried 
then  and  there  to  a  common  inn,  where  in  about  five  hours  he 
died,  all  the  time  shrieking  curses  on  any  one  who  should 
dare  to  take  him  alive  or  dead  inside  his  own  house.  Ha 
showed  good  sense  in  that  at  least — naturally  he  was  anxious 
not  to  bring  the  contagion  to  his  wife  and  child." 
"  Is  the  child  a  boy  or  a  girl?"  I  asked,  carelessly. 

"  A  girl.  A  mere  baby — an  uninteresting  old-fashioned  little 
thing,  very  like  her  father." 

My  poor  little  Stella! 

Every  pulse  of  my  being  thrilled  with  indignation  at  the 
indifferently  chill  way  in  which  he,  the  man  who  had  fondled 
her  and  pretended  to  love  her,  now  spoke  of  the  child.  She 
was,  as  far  as  he  knew,  fatherless;  he,  no  doubt,  had  good 
reason  to  suspect  that  her  mother  cared  little  for  her,  and  I 
saw  plainly  that  she  was,  or  soon  would  be,  a  slighted  and 
friendless  thing  in  the  household.  But  I  made  no  remark — I 
sipped  my  cognac  with  an  abstracted  air  for  a  few  seconds; 
then  I  asked : 

"  How  was  the  count  buried?  Your  narrative  interests  me 
greatly." 

"  Oh,  the  priest  who  was  with  him  saw  to  his  burial,  and,  I 
believe,  was  able  to  administer  the  last  sacraments.  At  any 
rate,  he  had  him  laid  with  all  proper  respect  in  his  family 
vault — I  myself  was  present  at  the  funeral." 

I  started  involuntarily,  but  quickly  repressed  myself. 

"  You  were  present — you — you — "  and  my  voice  almost  failed 
me. 

Ferrari  raised  his  eyebrows  with  a  look  of  surprised  in- 
quiry. 

"  Of  course !  You  are  astonished  at  that?  But  perhaps  you 
do  not  understand.  I  was  the  count's  very  closest  friend, 
closer  than  a  brother,  I  may  say.  It  was  natural,  even  neces- 
sary, that  I  should  attend  his  body  to  its  last  resting-place." 

By  this  time  I  had  recovered  myself. 

"  I  see— I  see !"  I  muttered,  hastily.  "  Pray  excuse  me :  my 
age  renders  me  nervous  of  disease  in  any  form,  and  I  should 
have  thought  the  fear  of  contagion  might  have  weighed  with 
you." 

"  With  meT'  and  he  laughed  lightly.  "  I  was  never  ill  in  my 
life,  and  I  have  no  dread  whatever  of  cholera.  I  suppose  I 
ran  some  risk,  though  I  never  thought  about  it  at  the  time; 


VENDETTA I  IO3 

but  the  priest — one  of  the  Benedictine  order — died  the  very 
next  day." 

"  Shocking !"  I  murmured  over  my  coffee-cup.  "  Very 
shocking.  And  you  actually  entertained  no  alarm  for 
yourself?" 

"  None  in  the  least.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  armed 
against  contagious  illnesses  by  a  conviction  I  have  that  I  am 
not  doomed  to  die  of  any  disease.  A  prophecy" — and  here  a 
cloud  crossed  his  features — "  an  odd  prophecy  was  made  about 
me  when  I  was  born,  which,  whether  it  comes  true  or  not, 
prevents  me  from  panic  in  days  of  plague." 

"  Indeed !"  I  said,  with  interest,  for  this  was  news  to  me. 
"  And  may  one  ask  what  this  prophecy  is?" 

"  Oh,  certainly.  It  is  to  the  effect  that  I  shall  die  a  violent 
death  by  the  hand  of  a  once  familiar  friend.  It  was  always 
an  absurd  statement — an  old  nurse's  tale — but  it  is  now  more 
absurd  than  ever,  considering  that  the  only  friend  of  the  kind 
I  ever  had  or  am  likely  to  have  is  dead  and  buried — namely, 
Fabio  Romani." 

And  he  sighed  slightly.  I  raised  my  head  and  looked  at 
him  steadily. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

The  sheltering  darkness  of  the  spectacles  I  wore  prevented 
him  from  noticing  the  searching  scrutiny  of  my  fixed  gaze. 
His  face  was  shadowed  by  a  faint  tinge  of  melancholy ;  his 
eyes  were  thoughtful  and  almost  sad. 

"  You  loved  him  well  then  in  spite  of  his  foolishness?"  I 
said. 

He  roused  himself  from  the  pensive  mood  into  which  he 
had  fallen,  and  smiled. 

"Loved  him?  No!  Certainly  not — nothing  so  strong  as 
that !  I  liked  him  fairly ;  he  bought  several  pictures  of  me — 
a  poor  artist  has  always  some  sort  of  regard  for  the  man  who 
buys  his  work.  Yes,  I  liked  him  well  enough — till  he 
married." 

"Ha!  I  suppose  his  wife  came  between  you?"  He  flushed 
slightly,  and  drank  off  the  remainder  of  his  cognac  in  haste. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  briefly,  "she  came  between  us.     A  man 


104  VENDETTA. 

is  never  quite  the  same  after  marriage.     But  we  have  been 
sitting  a  long  time  here ;  shall  we  walk?" 

He  was  evidently  anxious  to  change  the  subject.  I  rose 
slowly  as  though  my  joints  were  stiff  with  age,  and  drew  out 
my  watch,  a  finely  jeweled  one,  to  see  the  time.  It  was  past 
nine  o'clock. 

"  Perhaps,"  I  said,  addressing  him,  "  you  will  accompany  me 
as  far  as  my  hotel.  I  am  compelled  to  retire  early  as  a  rule. 
I  suffer  much  from  a  chronic  complaint  of  the  eyes  as  you 
perceive,"  here  touching  my  spectacles,  "  and  I  can  not  endure 
much  artificial  light.  We  can  talk  further  on  our  way.  Will 
you  give  me  a  chance  of  seeing  your  pictures?  I  shall  esteem 
myself  happy  to  be  one  of  your  patrons." 

"  A  thousand  thanks !"  he  answered,  gayly,  "  I  will  show  you 
my  poor  attempts  with  pleasure.  Should  you  find  anything 
among  them  to  gratify  your  taste,  I  shall  of  course  be  honored. 
But,  thank  Heaven  i  I  am  not  as  greedy  of  patronage  as  I 
used  to  be — in  fact,  I  intend  resigning  the  profession  altogether 
in  about  six  months  or  so." 

"Indeed!  Are  you  coming  into  a  fortune?"  I  asked,  care- 
lessly. 

"  Well,  not  exactly,"  he  answered,  lightly.  "lam  going  to 
marry  one — that  is  almost  the  same  thing,  is  it  not?" 

"  Precisely !  I  congratulate  you !"  I  said,  in  a  studiously  in- 
different and  slightly  bored  tone,  though  my  heart  pulsed 
fiercely  with  the  torrent  of  wrath  pent  up  within  it.  I  under- 
stood his  meaning  well.  In  six  months  he  proposed  marrying 
my  wife.  Six  months  was  the  shortest  possible  interval  that 
could  be  observed,  according  to  social  etiquette,  between  the 
death  of  one  husband  and  the  wedding  of  another,  and  even 
that  was  so  short  as  to  be  barely  decent.  Six  months— yet  in 
that  space  of  time  much  might  happen :  things  undreamed  of 
and  undesired :  slow  tortures  carefully  measured  out,  punish- 
ment sudden  and  heavy !  Wrapped  in  these  sombre  musings 
I  walked  beside  him  in  profound  silence.  The  moon  shone 
brilliantly;  groups  of  girls  danced  on  the  shore  with  their 
lovers,  to  the  sound  of  a  flute  and  mandoline ;  far  off  across 
the  bay  the  sound  of  sweet  and  plaintive  singing  floated,  from 
some  boat  in  the  distance,  to  our  ears ;  the  evening  breathed 
of  beauty,  peace  and  love.  But  I — my  fingers  quivered  with 
restrained  longing  to  be  at  the  throat  of  the  graceful  liar  who 
sauntered  so  easily  and  confidently  beside  me.      Ah,  heaven, 


vendetta!  105 

if  he  only  knew !  If  he  could  have  realized  the  truth,  would 
his  face  have  worn  quite  so  careless  a  smile — would  his  man- 
ner have  been  quite  so  free  and  dauntless?  Stealthily  I 
glanced  at  him ;  he  was  humming  a  tune  softly  under  his 
breath,  but  feeling  instinctively,  I  suppose,  that  my  eyes  were 
upon  him,  he  interrupted  the  melody  and  turned  to  me,  with 
the  question : 

"  You  have  traveled  far  and  seen  much,  conte?" 

"  I  have." 

"  And  in  what  country  have  you  found  the  most  beautiful 
women?" 

"  Pardon  me,  young  sir,"  I  answered,  coldly;  "  the  business 
of  life  has  sejDarated  me  almost  entirely  from  feminine  society. 
I  have  devoted  myself  exclusively  to  the  amassing  of  wealth, 
understanding  thoroughly  that  gold  is  the  key  to  all  things, 
even  to  woman's  love — if  I  desired  that  latter  commodity, 
which  I  do  not.  I  fear  that  I  scarcely  know  a  fair  face  from  a 
plain  one.  I  never  was  attracted  by  women,  and  now  at  my 
age,  with  my  settled  habits,  I  am  not  likely  to  alter  my  opin- 
ions concerning  them — and  I  frankly  confess  those  opinions 
are  the  reverse  of  favorable." 

Ferrari  laughed.  "You  remind  me  of  Fabio!"  he  said. 
"  He  used  to  talk  in  that  strain  before  he  was  married,  though 
he  was  young  and  had  none  of  the  experiences  which  may  have 
made  you  cynical,  conte!  But  he  altered  his  ideas  very 
rapidly — and  no  wonder !" 

"  Is  his  wife  so  very  lovely  then?"  I  asked. 

"Very!  Delicately,  daintily  beautiful.  But  no  doubt  you 
will  see  her  for  yourself — as  a  friend  of  her  late  husband's 
father,  you  will  call  upon  her,  will  you  not?" 

"Why  should  I?"  I  said,  gruffly.  "I  have  no  wish  to  meet 
her!  Besides,  an  inconsolable  widow  seldom  cares  to  receive 
visitors.    I  shall  not  intrude  upon  her  sorrows !" 

Never  was  there  a  better  move  than  this  show  of  utter  in- 
difference I  affected.  The  less  I  appeared  to  care  about  seeing 
the  Countess  Romani,  the  more  anxious  Ferrari  was  to  intro- 
duce me — (introduce  me ! — to  my  wife ! ) — and  he  set  to  work 
preparing  his  own  doom  with  assiduous  ardor. 

"  Oh,  but  you  must  see  her!"  he  exclaimed,  eagerly.  "  She 
will  receive  you,  I  am  sure,  as  a  special  guest.  Your  age  and 
your  former  acquaintance  with  her  late  husband's  family  will 
win  from  her  the  utmost  courtesy,  believe  me !     Besides,  she 


io6  vendetta! 

is  not  really  inconsolable — "  He  paused  suddenly.  We  had 
arrived  at  the  entrance  of  my  hotel.     I  looked  at  him  steadily. 

"  Not  really  inconsolable?"  I  repeated,  in  a  tone  of  inquiry. 
Ferrari  broke  into  a  forced  laugh. 

"  "Why,  no !"  he  said.  "  What  would  you?  She  is  young  and 
light-hearted — perfectly  lovely  and  in  the  fulness  of  youth 
and  health.  One  can  not  expect  her  to  weep  long,  especially 
for  a  man  she  did  not  care  for." 

I  ascended  the  hotel  steps.  "  Pray  come  in !"  I  said,  with  ati 
inviting  movement  of  my  hand.  "  You  must  take  a  glass  of 
wine  before  you  leave.  And  so — she  did  not  care  for  him, 
you  say?" 

Encouraged  by  my  friendly  invitation  and  manner,  Ferrari 
became  more  at  his  ease  than  ever,  and  hooking  his  arm 
through  mine  as  we  crossed  the  broad  passage  of  the  hotel  to- 
gether, he  replied  in  a  confidential  tone : 

"  My  dear  conte,  how  can  a  woman  love  a  man  who  is  forced 
upon  her  by  her  father  for  the  sake  of  the  money  he  gives 
her?  As  I  told  you  before,  my  late  friend  was  utterly  insensi- 
ble to  the  beauty  of  his  wife — he  was  cold  as  a  stone,  and  pre- 
ferred his  books.     Then,  naturally,  she  had  no  love  for  him !" 

By  this  time  we  had  reached  my  apartments,  and  as  I  threw 
open  the  door,  I  saw  that  Ferrari  was  taking  in  with  a  critical 
eye  the  costly  fittings  and  luxurious  furniture.  In  answer  to 
this  last  remark,  I  said  with  a  chilly  smile: 

"And  as  Itoldyou  before,  my  dear  Signor  Ferrari,  I  know 
nothing  whatever  about  women,  and  care  less  than  nothing  for 
their  loves  or  hatreds !  I  have  always  thought  of  them  more 
or  less  as  playful  kittens,  who  purr  when  they  are  stroked  the 
right  way,  and  scream  and  scratch  when  their  tails  are  trod- 
den on.     Try  this  Montepulciano !" 

He  accepted  the  glass  I  proiTered  him,  and  tasted  the  wine 
with  the  air  of  a  connoisseur. 

"  Exquisite !"  he  murmured,  sipping  it  lazily.  "  You  are 
lodged  en  prince  here,  conte !     I  envy  you !" 

"  You  need  not,"  I  answered.  "  You  have  youth  and  health, 
and  as  you  have  hinted  to  me — love ;  all  these  things  are  bet- 
ter than  wealth,  so  people  say.  At  any  rate,  youth  and  health 
are  good  things — love  I  have  no  belief  in.  As  for  me,  I  am  a 
mere  luxurious  animal,  loving  comfort  and  ease  beyond  any- 
thing. I  have  had  many  trials — I  now  take  my  rest  in  my  own 
fashion." 


vendetta!  107 

"  A  very  excellent  and  sensible  fashion !"  smiled  Ferrari, 
leaning  his  head  easily  back  on  the  satin  cushions  of  the  easy- 
chair  into  which  he  had  thrown  himself. 

"  Do  you  know,  conte,  now  I  look  at  you  well,  I  think  you 
must  have  been  very  handsome  when  you  were  young!  You 
have  a  superb  figure  !" 

I  bowed  stiffly.  "  You  flatter  me,  signor!  I  believe  I  never 
was  specially  hideous;  but  looks  in  a  man  always  rank  second 
to  strength,  and  of  strength  I  have  plenty  yet  remaining." 

"I  do  not  doubt  it,"  he  returned,  still  regarding  me  atten- 
tively with  an  expression  in  which  there  was  the  faintest 
shadow  of  uneasiness. 

"  It  is  an  odd  coincidence,  you  will  say,  but  I  find  a  most 
extraordinary  resemblance  in  the  height  and  carriage  of  your 
figure  to  that  of  my  late  friend  Romani." 

I  poured  some  wine  out  for  myself  with  a  steady  hand,  and 
drank  it. 

"  Really.^"  I  answered.  "  I  am  glad  that  I  remind  you  of 
him — if  the  reminder  is  agreeable !  But  all  tall  men  are  much 
alike  so  far  as  figure  goes,  providing  they  are  well  made." 

Ferrari's  brow  was  contracted  in  a  musing  frown  and  he 
answered  not.  He  still  looked  at  me,  and  I  returned  his  look 
without  embarrassment.  Finally  he  roused  himself,  smiled, 
and  finished  drinking  his  glass  of  Montepulciano.  Then  he 
rose  to  go. 

"  You  will  permit  me  to  mention  your  name  to  the  Countess 
Romani,  I  hope?"  he  said,  cordially.  "  I  am  certain  she  will 
receive  you,  should  you  desire  it." 

I  feigned  a  sort  of  vexation,  and  made  an  abrupt  movement 
of  impatience. 

"  The  fact  is,"  I  said,  at  last,  "  I  very  much  dislike  talking 
to  women.  They  are  always  illogical,  and  their  frivolity 
wearies  me.  But  you  have  been  so  friendly  that  I  will  give 
you  a  message  for  the  countess,  if  you  have  no  objection  to 
deliver  it.  I  should  be  sorry  to  trouble  you  unnecessarily — 
and  you  perhaps  will  not  have  an  opportunity  of  seeing  her 
for  some  days?" 

He  colored  slightly  and  moved  uneasily.  Then  with  a  kind 
of  effort,  he  replied : 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  am  going  to  see  her  this  very  evening. 
I  assure  you  it  will  be  a  pleasure  to  me  to  convey  to  her  any 
greeting  you  may  desire  to  send." 


io8  vendetta! 

"  Oh,  it  is  no  greeting,"  I  continued,  calmly,  noting  the 
various  signs  of  embarrassment  in  his  manner  with  a  careful 
eye.  "  It  is  a  mere  message,  which,  however,  may  enable  you 
to  understand  why  I  was  anxious  to  see  the  young  man  who  is 
dead.  In  my  very  early  manhood  the  elder  Count  Romani 
did  me  an  inestimable  service.  I  never  forgot  his  kindness — 
my  memory  is  extraordinarily  tenacious  of  both  benefits  and 
injuries — and  I  have  always  desired  to  repay  it  in  some  suit- 
able manner.  I  have  with  me  a  few  jewels  of  almost  priceless 
value — I  have  myself  collected  them,  and  I  reserved  them  as 
a  present  to  the  son  of  my  old  friend,  simply  as  a  trifling 
souvenir  or  expression  of  gratitude  for  past  favors  received 
from  his  family.  His  sudden  death  has  deprived  me  of  the 
pleasure  of  fulfilling  this  intention;  but  as  the  jewels  are  quite 
useless  to  me,  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  hand  them  over  to 
the  Countess  Romani,  should  she  care  to  have  them.  They 
would  have  been  hers  had  her  husband  lived — they  should  be 
hers  now.  If  you,  signor,  will  report  these  facts  to  her  and 
learn  her  wishes  with  respect  to  the  matter,  I  shall  be  much 
indebted  to  you." 

"I  shall  be  delighted  to  obey  you,"  replied  Ferrari,  courte- 
ously, rising  at  the  same  time  to  take  his  leave.  "  I  am  proud 
to  be  the  bearer  of  so  pleasing  an  errand.  Beautiful  women 
love  jewels,  and  who  shall  blame  them?  Bright  eyes  and 
diamonds  go  well  together!  A  rivederci,  Signor  Conte!  I 
trust  we  shall  meet  often." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  we  shall,"  I  answered  quietly. 

He  shook  hands  cordially,  I  responded  to  his  farewell  salu- 
tations with  the  brief  coldness  which  was  now  my  habitual 
manner,  and  we  parted.  From  the  window  of  my  saloon  I 
could  see  him  sauntering  easily  down  the  hotel  steps  and  from 
thence  along  the  street.  How  I  cursed  him  as  he  stepped 
jauntily  on — how  I  hated  his  debonair  grace  and  easy  manner! 
I  watched  the  even  poise  of  his  handsome  head  and  shoulders, 
I  noted  the  assured  tread,  the  air  of  conscious  vanity — the 
whole  demeanor  of  the  man  bespoke  his  perfect  self-satisfac- 
tion and  his  absolute  confidence  in  the  brightness  of  the  future 
that  awaited  him  when  that  stipulated  six  months  of  pretended 
mourning  for  my  untimely  death  should  have  expired.  Once, 
as  he  walked  on  his  way,  he  turned  and  paused ;  looking  back, 
he  raised  his  hat  to  enjoy  the  coolness  of  the  breeze  on  his 
forehead  and  hair.     The  light  of  the  moon  fell  full  on  his 


vendetta!  109 

features  and  showed  them  in  profile,  like  a  finely  cut  cameo 
against  the  dense  dark-blue  background  of  the  evening  sky. 
I  gazed  at  him  with  a  sort  of  grim  fascination — the  fascination 
of  a  hunter  for  the  stag  when  it  stands  at  bay,  just  before  he 
draws  his  knife  across  its  throat.  He  was  in  my  power:  he 
had  deliberately  thrown  himself  in  the  trap  I  had  set  for  him. 
He  lay  at  the  mercy  of  one  in  whom  there  was  no  mercy.  He 
had  said  and  done  nothing  to  deter  me  from  my  settled  plans. 
Had  he  shown  the  least  tendtrness  of  recollection  for  me  as 
Fabio  Romani,  his  friend  and  benefactor;  had  he  hallowed 
my  memory  by  one  generous  word;  had  he  expressed  one  re- 
gret for  my  loss,  I  might  have  hesitated,  I  might  have  some- 
what changed  my  course  of  action  so  that  punishment  should 
have  fallen  more  lightly  on  him  than  on  her.  For  I  knew 
well  enough  that  she,  my  wife,  was  the  worst  sinner  of  the 
two.  Had  she  chosen  to  respect  herself,  not  all  the  forbidden 
love  in  the  world  could  have  touched  her  honor.  Therefore, 
the  least  sign  of  compunction  or  affection  from  Ferrari  for  me, 
his  supposed  dead  friend,  would  have  turned  the  scale  in  his 
favor,  and  in  spite  of  his  treachery,  remembering  how  she 
must  have  encouraged  him,  I  would  at  least  have  spared  him 
torture.  But  no  sign  had  been  given,  no  word  had  been 
spoken,  there  was  no  need  for  hesitation  or  pity,  and  I  was  glad 
of  it!  All  this  I  thought  as  I  watched  him  standing  bare- 
headed in  the  moonlight,  on  his  way  to — whom?  To  my  wife-, 
of  course.  I  knew  that  well  enough.  He  was  going  to  con- 
sole her  widow's  tears — to  soothe  her  aching  heart — a  good 
Samaritan  in  very  earnest!  He  moved,  he  passed  slowly  out 
of  my  sight.  I  waited  till  I  had  seen  the  last  glimpse  of  his 
I  retreating  figure,  and  then  I  left  the  window  satisfied  with  my 
day's  work.     Vengeance  had  begun. 


CHAPTER  XHI. 

Quite  early  in  the  next  day  Ferrari  called  to  see  me.  I 
was  at  breakfast.    He  apologized  for  disturbing  me  at  the  meal. 

"  But,"  he  explained,  frankly,  "  the  Countess  Romani  laid 
such  urgent  commands  upon  me  that  I  was  compelled  to  obey. 
We  men  are  the  slaves  of  women !"' 

"Not  always,"  I  said  dryly,  as  I  motioned  him  to  take  a  seat; 


no  vendetta! 

"  there  are  exceptions — myself  for  instance.  Will  you  have 
some  coffee?" 

"  Thanks,  I  have  already  breakfasted.  Pray  do  not  let  me 
be  in  your  way,  my  errand  is  soon  done.  The  countess  wishes 
me  to  say " 

"  You  saw  her  last  night?"  I  interrupted  him. 

He  flushed  slightly.  "  Yes — that  is,  for  a  few  minutes  only. 
I  gave  her  your  message.  She  thanks  you,  and  desires  me  to 
tell  you  that  she  cannot  think  of  receiving  the  jewels  unless 
you  will  first  honor  her  by  a  visit.  She  is  not  at  home  to 
ordinary  callers  in  consequence  of  her  recent  bereavement; 
but  to  you,  so  old  a  friend  of  her  husband's  family,  a  hearty 
welcome  will  be  accorded." 

I  bowed  stiffly.  "  I  am  extremely  flattered !"  I  said,  in  a 
somewhat  sarcastical  tone ;  "  it  is  seldom  I  receive  so  tempting 
an  invitation !  I  regret  that  I  can  not  accept  it — at  least,  not 
at  present.  Make  my  compliments  to  the  lady,  and  tell  her  so 
in  whatever  sugared  form  of  words  you  may  think  best  fitted 
to  please  her  ears." 

He  looked  surprised  and  puzzled. 

"  Do  you  really  mean,"  he  said,  with  a  tinge  of  hauteur  in 
his  accents,  "  that  you  will  not  visit  her — that  you  refuse  her 
request?" 

I  smiled.  "  I  really  mean,  my  dear  Signor  Ferrari,  that, 
being  always  accustomed  to  have  my  own  way,  I  can  make  no 
exception  in  favor  of  ladies,  however  fascinating  they  may  be. 
I  have  business  in  Naples — it  claims  my  first  and  best  atten- 
tion. When  it  is  transacted  I  may  possibly  try  a  few  frivoli- 
ties for  a  change ;  at  present  I  am  unfit  for  the  society  of  the 
fair  sex — an  old  battered  traveler  as  you  see,  brusque,  and 
unaccustomed  to  polite  lying.  But  I  promise  you  I  will  prac- 
tise suave  manners  and  a  court  bow  for  the  countess  when 
I  can  spare  time  to  call  upon  her.  In  the  meanwhile  I  trust 
to  you  to  make  her  a  suitable  and  graceful  apology  for  my 
non-appearance." 

Ferrari's  puzzled  and  vexed  expression  gave  way  to  a  smile 
— finally  he  laughed  aloud.  "  Upon  my  word !"  he  exclaimed, 
gayly,  "  you  are  really  a  remarkable  man,  conte !  You  are 
extremely  cynical !  I  am  almost  inclined  to  believe  that  you 
positively  hate  women." 

"Oh,  by  no  means!  Nothing  so  strong  as  hatred,"  I  said, 
coolly,  as  I  peeled  and  divided  a  fine  peach  as  a  finish  to  my 


VENDETTA !  1  I  I 

morning's  meal.  "  Hatred  is  a  strong  passion — to  hate  well 
one  must  first  have  loved.  No,  no ;  I  do  not  find  women  worth 
hating — I  am  simply  indifferent  to  them.  They  seem  to  me 
merely  one  of  the  burdens  imposed  on  man's  existence — 
graceful,  neatly  packed,  light  burdens  in  appearance,  but  in 
truth,  terrible  heavy  and  soul-crushing." 

"  Yet  many  accept  such  burdens  gayly !"  interrupted  Ferrari, 
with  a  smile.     I  glanced  at  him  keenly. 

"  Men  seldom  attain  the  mastery  over  their  own  passions," 
I  replied;  "  they  are  in  haste  to  seize  every  apparent  pleasure 
that  comes  in  their  way.  Led  by  a  hot  animal  impulse  which 
they  call  love,  they  snatch  at  a  woman's  beauty  as  a  greedy 
school-boy  snatches  ripe  fruit — and  when  possessed,  what  is 
it  worth?  Here  is  its  emblem" — and  I  held  up  the  stone  of  the 
peach  I  had  just  eaten — "  the  fruit  is  devoured — what  remains.? 
A  stone  with  a  bitter  kernel." 

Ferrari  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I  can  not  agree  with  you,  count,"  he  said;  "but  I  will  not 
argue  with  you.  From  your  point  of  view  you  may  be  right 
— but  when  one  is  young,  and  life  stretches  before  you  like  a 
fair  pleasure-ground,  love  and  the  smile  of  woman  are  like 
sunlight  falling  on  flowers !  You  too  must  have  felt  this — in 
in  spite  of  what  you  say,  there  must  have  been  a  time  in  your 
life  when  you  also  loved!" 

"  Oh,  I  have  had  my  fancies,  of  course !"  I  answered,  with 
an  indifferent  laugh.  "  The  woman  I  fancied  turned  out  to 
be  a  saint — I  was  not  worthy  of  her — at  least,  so  I  was  told. 
At  any  rate,  I  was  so  convinced  of  her  virtue  and  my  own  un- 
worthiness — that — I  left  her." 

He  looked  surprised.  "  An  odd  reason,  surely,  for  resigning 
her,  was  it  not?" 

"  Very  odd — very  unusual — but  a  sufficient  one  for  me.  Pray 
let  us  talk  of  something  more  interesting — your  pictures,  for 
instance.     When  may  I  see  them?" 

"When  you  please,"  he  answered,  readily;  "though  I  fear 
they  are  scarcely  worth  a  visit.  I  have  not  worked  much 
lately.  I  really  doubt  whether  I  have  any  that  will  merit 
your  notice," 

"  You  underrate  your  powers,  signor,"  I  said  with  formal 
politeness.  "  Allow  me  to  call  at  your  studio  this  afternoon. 
I  have  a  few  minutes  to  spare  between  three  and  four  o'clock 
if  that  time  will  suit  you." 


112  vendetta! 

"  It  will  suit  me  admirably,"  he  said,  with  a  look  of  gratifica- 
tion ;  "  but  I  fear  you  will  be  disappointed.  I  assure  you  I  am 
no  artist." 

I  smiled.  I  knew  that  well  enough.  But  I  made  no  reply 
to  his  remark.  I  said,  "  Regarding  the  matter  of  the  jewels  for 
the  Countess  Romani — would  you  care  to  see  them?" 

"I  should  indeed,"  he  answered;  "they  are  unique  speci- 
mens, I  think?" 

"  I  believe  so,"  I  answered,  and  going  to  an  escritoire  in  the 
corner  of  the  room,  I  unlocked  it  and  took  out  a  massive 
carved  oaken  jewel-chest  of  square  shape,  which  I  had  had 
made  in  Palermo.  It  contained  a  necklace  of  large  rubies  and 
diamonds,  with  bracelets  to  match,  and  pins  for  the  hair — also 
a  sapphire  ring — a  cross  of  fine  rose-brilliants,  and  the  pearl 
pendant  I  had  first  found  in  the  vault.  All  the  gems,  with  the 
exception  of  this  pendant,  had  been  reset  by  a  skilful  jeweler 
in  Palermo,  who  had  acted  under  my  superintendence ;  and 
Ferrari  uttered  an  exclamation  of  astonishment  and  admira- 
tion as  he  lifted  the  glittering  toys  out  one  by  one  and  noted 
the  size  and  brilliancy  of  the  precious  stones. 

"  They  are  trifles,"  I  said,  carelessly;  "  but  they  may  please 
a  woman's  taste — and  they  amount  to  a  certain  fixed  value. 
You  would  do  me  a  great  service  if  you  consented  to  take 
them  to  the  Contessa  Romani  for  me — tell  her  to  accept  them 
as  heralds  of  my  forthcoming  visit.  I  am  sure  you  will  know 
how  to  persuade  her  to  take  what  would  unquestionably  have 
been  hers  had  her  husband  lived.  They  are  really  her  prop- 
erty—she must  not  refuse  to  receive  what  is  her  own." 

Ferrari  hesitated  and  looked  at  me  earnestly. 

"  You  «'/// visit  her — she  may  rely  on  your  coming  for  a  cer- 
tainty, I  hope?" 

I  smiled.    "  You  seem  very  anxious  about  it.    May  I  ask  why?" 

"  I  think,"  he  replied  at  once,  "  that  it  would  embarrass  the 
countess  very  much  if  you  gave  her  no  opportunity  to  thank 
you  for  so  munificent  and  splendid  a  gift — and  unless  she 
knew  she  could  do  so,  I  am  certain  she  would  not  accept  it." 

"  Make  yourself  quite  easy,"  I  answered.  "  She  shall  thank 
me  to  her  heart's  content.  I  give  you  my  word  that  within  a 
few  days  I  will  call  upon  the  lady — in  fact,  you  said  you  would 
introduce  me — I  accept  your  offer!" 

He  seemed  delighted,  and  seizing  my  hand,  shook  it 
cordially. 


VENDETTA !  I  I  3 

"Then  in  that  case  I  will  gladly  take  the  jewels  to  her,"  he 
exclaimed.  "  And  I  may  say,  count,  that  had  you  searched 
the  whole  world  over,  you  could  not  have  found  one  whose 
beauty  was  more  fitted  to  show  them  off  to  advantage.  I  as- 
sure you  her  loveliness  is  of  a  most  exquisite  character!" 

"  No  doubt!"  I  said,  dryly.  "  I  take  your  word  for  it.  I  am 
no  judge  of  a  fair  face  or  form.  And  now,  my  good  friend,  do 
not  think  me  churlish  if  I  request  you  to  leave  me  in  solitude 
for  the  present.  Between  three  and  four  o'clock  I  shall  be  at 
your  studio," 

He  rose  at  once  to  take  his  leave.  I  placed  the  oaken  box 
of  jewels  in  the  leathern  case  which  had  been  made  to  contain 
it,  strapped  and  locked  it,  and  handed  it  to  him  together  with 
its  key.  He  was  profuse  in  his  compliments  and  thanks — 
almost  obsequious,  in  truth — and  I  discovered  another  defect 
in  his  character — a  defect  which,  as  his  friend  in  former  days, 
I  had  guessed  nothing  of,  I  saw  that  very  little  encourage- 
ment would  make  him  a  toady — a  fawning  servitor  on  the 
wealthy — and  in  our  old  time  of  friendship  I  had  believed  him 
to  be  far  above  all  such  meanness,  but  rather  of  a  manly,  in- 
dependent nature  that  scorned  hypocrisy.  Thus  we  are 
deluded  even  by  our  nearest  and  dearest;  and  is  it  well  or  ill 
for  us,  I  wonder,  when  we  are  at  last  undeceived?  Is  not  the 
destruction  of  illusion  worse  than  illusion  itself?  I  thought 
so,  as  my  quondam  friend  clasped  my  hand  in  farewell  that 
morning.  What  would  I  not  have  given  to  believe  in  him  as 
I  once  did!  I  held  open  the  door  of  my  room  as  he  passed 
out,  carrying  the  box  of  jewels  for  my  wife,  and  as  I  bade  him 
a  brief  adieu,  the  well-worn  story  of  Tristram  and  King  Mark 
came  to  my  mind.  He,  Guido,  like  Tristram,  would  in  a  short 
space  clasp  the  gemmed  necklace  round  the  throat  of  one  as 
fair  and  false  as  the  fabled  Iseulte,  and  I — should  I  figure  as 
the  wronged  king?  How  does  the  English  laureate  put  it  in 
his  idyl  on  the  subject? 

"  'Mark's  way,'  said  Mark,  and  clove  htm  through  the  brain." 

Too  sudden  and  sweet  a  death  by  far  for  such  a  traitor! 
The  Cornish  king  should  have  known  how  to  torture  his  be- 
trayer. /  knew — and  I  meditated  deeply  on  every  point  of  my 
design,  as  I  sat  alone  for  an  hour  after  Ferrari  had  left  me.  I 
had  many  things  to  do:  I  had  resolved  on  making  myself  a 
personage  of  importance  in  Naples,  and  I  wrote  several  letters 


114  vendetta! 

and  sent  out  visiting-cards  to  certain  well-established  families 
of  distinction  as  necessary  preliminaries  to  the  result  I  had  in 
view.     That  day,  too,  I  engaged  a  valet — a  silent  and  discreet 
Tuscan   named   Vincenzo    Flamma.     He   was   an   admirably 
trained  servant — he  never  asked  questions,  was  too  dignified 
to  gossip,  and  rendered  me  instant  and  implicit  obedience — in 
fact,  he  was  a  gentleman  in  his  way,  with  far  better  manners 
than  many  who  lay  claim  to  that  title.     He  entered  upon  his 
duties  at  once,  and  never  did  I  know  him  to  neglect  the  most 
trifling  thing  that  could  add  to  my  satisfaction  or  comfort.     In 
making  arrangements  with  him,  and  in  attending  to  various 
little  matters  of  business,  the  hours  slipped  rapidly  away,  and 
in  the  afternoon,  at  the  time  appointed,  I  made  my  way  to 
Ferrari's  studio.     I  knew  it  of  old — I  had  no  need  to  consult 
the  card  he  had  left  with  me  on  which  the  address  was  written. 
It  was  a  queer,  quaintly  built  little  place,  situated  at  the  top 
of  an  ascending  road — its  windows  commanded  an  extensive 
view  of  the  bay  and  the  surrounding  scenery.     Many   and 
many  a  happy  hour  had  I  passed  there  before  my  marriage, 
reading  some  favorite  book,  or  watching  Ferrari  as  he  painted 
his  crude   landscapes  and   figures,    most   of   which    I   good- 
naturedly  purchased  as  soon  as  completed.     The  little  porch 
overgrown  with  star-jasmine  looked  strangely  and  sorrowfully 
familiar  to  my  eyes,  and  my  heart  experienced  a  sickening 
pang  of  regret  for  the  past  as  I  pulled  the  bell  and  heard  the 
little   tinkling   sound   to   which   I   was   so  well  accustomed, 
Ferrari  himself  opened  the  door  to  me  with  eager  rapidity — 
he  looked  excited  and  radiant. 

"  Come   in,  come   in !"    he   cried   with   effusive   cordiality. 

1 "  You  will  find  everything  in  confusion,  but  pray  excuse  it.     It 

is  some  time  since  I  had  any  visitors.     Mind  the  steps,  conte ! 

— the  place  is  rather  dark  just  here — every  one  stumbles  at 

this  particular  corner." 

So  talking,  and  laughing  as  he  talked,  he  escorted  me  up 
the  short  narrow  flight  of  stairs  to  the  light  airy  room  where 
he  usually  worked.  Glancing  round  it,  I  saw  at  once  the  evi- 
dences of  neglect  and  disorder — he  had  certainly  not  been 
there  for  many  days,  though  he  had  made  an  attempt  to 
arrange  it  tastefully  for  my  reception.  On  the  table  stood  a 
large  vase  of  flowers  grouped  with  artistic  elegance — I  felt 
instinctively  that  my  wife  had  put  them  there.  I  noticed  that 
Ferrari  had  begun  nothing  new — all  the  finished  and  unfinished 


vendetta!  115 

studies  I  saw  I  recognized  directly.  I  seated  myself  in  an 
easy-chair  and  looked  at  my  betrayer  with  a  calmly  critical 
eye.  He  was  what  the  English  would  call  "  got  up  for  effect." 
Though  in  black,  he  had  donned  a  velvet  coat  instead  of  the 
cloth  one  he  had  worn  in  the  morning — he  had  a  single  white 
japonica  in  his  button-hole — his  face  was  pale  and  his  eyes 
unusually  brilliant.  He  looked  his  best — I  admitted  it,  and 
could  readily  understand  how  an  idle,  pleasure-seeking  femi- 
nine animal  might  be  easily  attracted  by  the  purely  physical 
beauty  of  his  form  and  features.  I  spoke  a  part  of  my 
thoughts  aloud. 

"  You  are  not  only  an  artist  by  profession,  Signor  Ferrari — 
you  are  one  also  in  appearance." 
He  flushed  slightly  and  smiled. 

"  You  are  very  amiable  to  say  so,"  he  replied,  his  pleased 
vanity  displaying  itself  at  once  in  the  expression  of  his  face. 
"  But  I  am  well  aware  that  you  flatter  me.  By  the  way, 
before  I  forget  it,  I  must  tell  you  that  I  fulfilled  your  com- 
trfission." 

"  To  the  Countess  Romani?" 

"  Exactly.  I  can  not  describe  to  you  her  astonishment  and 
delight  at  the  splendor  and  brilliancy  of  those  jewels  you  sent 
her.     It  was  really  pretty  to  watch  her  innocent  satisfaction." 

I  laughed. 

"  Margueiite  and  the  jewel  song  in  'Faust,'  I  suppose,  with 
new  scenery  ai:d  effects?"  I  asked,  with  a  slight  sneer.  He 
bit  his  lip  and  looked  annoyed.     But  he  answered,  quietly: 

"  I  see  you  must  have  your  joke,  conte ;  but  remember  that 
/f  you  place  the  countess  in  the  position  of  Marguerite,  you, 
as  the  giver  of  the  jewels,  naturally  play  the  part  of  Mephis- 
copheles." 

"  And  you  will  be  Faust,  ^f  course !"  I  said,  gayly.  "  Why, 
we  might  mount  the  opera  with  a  few  supernumeraries  and 
astonish  Naples  by  our  performance!  What  say  you?  But 
let  us  come  to  business.  I  like  the  picture  you  have  on  the 
easel  there — may  I  see  it  more  closely?" 

He  drew  it  nearer;  it  was  a  showy  landscape  with  the  light 
of  the  sunset  upon  it.  It  was  badly  done,  but  2  praised  it 
warmly,  and  purchased  it  for  five  hundred  francs.  Four  other 
sketches  of  a  similar  nature  were  then  produced.  I  bought 
these  also.  By  the  time  we  got  through  these  matters,  Fer- 
rari was  in  the  best  of  huj^^s.     He  offered  me  some  excellent 


ii6  vendetta! 

wine  and  partook  of  it  himself;  he  talked  incessantly,  and 
diverted  me  extremely,  though  my  inward  amusement  was 
not  caused  by  the  witty  brilliancy  of  his  conversation.  No,  I 
was  only  excited  to  a  sense  of  savage  humor  by  the  novelty 
of  the  position  in  which  we  two  men  stood.  Therefore  I  lis- 
tened to  him  attentively,  applauded  his  anecdotes — all  of 
which  I  had  heard  before — admired  his  jokes,  and  fooled  his 
egotistical  soul  till  he  had  no  shred  of  self-respect  remaining. 
He  laid  his  nature  bare  before  me,  and  I  knew  what  it  was  at 
last :  a  mixture  of  selfishness,  avarice,  sensuality,  and  heart- 
lessness,  tempered  now  and  then  by  a  flash  of  good-nature 
and  sympathetic  attraction  which  were  the  mere  outcomes  of 
youth  and  physical  health — no  more.  This  was  the  man  I  had 
loved — this  fellow  who  told  coarse  stories  only  worthy  of  a 
common  pot-house,  and  who  reveled  in  a  wit  of  a  high  and 
questionable  flavor;  this  conceited,  empty-headed,  muscular 
piece  of  humanity  was  the  same  being  for  whom  I  had  cher- 
ished so  chivalrous  and  loyal  a  tenderness !  Our  conversation 
was  broken  in  upon  at  last  by  the  sound  of  approaching 
wheels.  A  carriage  was  heard  ascending  the  road — it  came 
nearer — it  stopped  at  the  door.  I  set  down  the  glass  of  wine 
I  had  just  raised  to  my  lips,  and  looked  at  Ferrari  steadily. 

"  You  expect  other  visitors?"  I  inquired. 

He  seemed  embarrassed,  smiled,  and  hesitated. 

"  Well — I  am  not  sure — but — "  The  bell  rang.  With  a  word 
of  apology  Ferrari  hurried  away  to  answer  it.  I  sprung  from 
my  chair — I  knew — I  felt  who  was  coming.  I  steadied  my 
nerves  by  a  strong  effort.  I  controlled  the  rapid  beating  of 
my  heart;  and  fixing  my  dark  glasses  more  closely  over  my 
eyes,  I  drew  myself  up  erect  and  waited  calmly.  I  heard 
Ferrari  ascending  the  stairs — a  light  step  accompanied  his 
heavier  footfall — he  spoke  to  his  companion  in  whispers. 
Another  instant — and  he  flung  the  door  of  the  studio  wide  open 
with  the  haste  and  reverence  due  for  the  entrance  of  a  queen. 
There  was  a  soft  rustle  of  silk — a  delicate  breath  of  perfume 
on  the  air — and  then — I  stood  face  to  face  with — my  wi/el 


vendetta!  117 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

How  dazzingly  lovely  she  was!  I  gazed  at  her  with  the 
same  bewildered  fascination  that  had  stupefied  ray  reason  and 
judgment  when  I  beheld  her  for  the  first  time.  The  black 
robes  she  wore,  the  long  crape  veil  thrown  back  from  her 
clustering  hair  and  rnignonne  face,  all  the  somber  shadows  of 
her  mourning  garb  only  served  to  heighten  and  display  her 
beauty  to  greater  advantage,  A  fair  widow  truly!  I,  her 
lately  deceased  husband,  freely  admitted  the  magnetic  power 
of  her  charms !  She  paused  for  an  instant  on  the  threshold, 
a  winning  smile  on  her  lips;  she  looked  at  me,  hesitated,  and 
finally  spoke  in  courteous  accents: 

"  I  think  I  can  not  be  mistaken !  Do  I  address  the  noble 
Conte  Cesare  Oliva?" 

I  tried  to  speak,  but  could  not.  My  mouth  was  dry  and 
parched  with  excitement,  my  throat  swelled  and  ached  with 
the  pent-up  wrath  and  despair  of  my  emotions.  I  answered 
her  question  silently  by  a  formal  bow.  She  at  once  advanced, 
extending  both  her  hands  with  the  coaxing  grace  of  manner  I 
had  so  often  admired. 

"I  am  the  Countess  Romani,"  she  said,  still  smiling.  "I 
heard  from  Signor  Ferrari  that  you  purposed  visiting  his 
studio  this  afternoon,  and  I  could  not  resist  the  temptation  of 
coming  to  express  my  personal  acknowledgments  for  the 
almost  regal  gift  you  sent  me.  The  jewels  are  really  magnifi- 
cent.    Permit  me  to  offer  you  my  sincere  thanks!" 

I  caught  her  outstretched  hands  and  wrung  them  hard — so 
hard  that  the  rings  she  wore  must  have  dug  into  her  flesh  and 
hurt  her,  though  she  was  too  well-bred  to  utter  any  exclama- 
tion. I  had  fully  recovered  mj'self,  and  was  prepared  to  act 
out  my  part. 

"  On  the  contrary,  madame,"  I  said  in  a  strong  harsh  voice, 
"  the  thanks  must  come  entirely  from  me  for  the  honor  you 
have  conferred  upon  me  by  accepting  trifles  so  insignificant — 
especially  at  a  time  when  the  cold  brilliancy  of  mere  diamonds 
must  jar  upon  the  sensitive  feelings  of  your  recent  widowhood. 
Believe  me,  I  sympathize  deeply  with  your  bereavement. 
Had  your  husband  lived,  the  jewels  would  have  been  his  gift 
to  you,  and  how  much  more  acceptable  they  would  then  havQ 


ii8  vendetta! 

appeared  in  your  eyes !  I  am  proud  to  think  you  have  conde- 
scended so  far  as  to  receive  them  from  so  unworthy  a  hand  as 
mine." 

As  I  spoke  her  face  paled — she  seemed  startled,  and  regarded 
me  earnestly.  Sheltered  behind  my  smoked  spectacles,  I  met 
the  gaze  of  her  large  dark  eyes  without  embarrassment. 
Slowly  she  withdrew  her  slight  fingers  from  my  clasp.  I 
placed  an  easy-chair  for  her ;  she  sunk  softly  into  it  with  her 
old  air  of  indolent  ease,  the  ease  of  a  spoiled  empress  or  sul- 
tan's favorite,  while  she  still  continued  to  look  up  at  me 
thoughtfully.  Ferrari,  meanwhile,  busied  himself  in  bring- 
ing out  more  wine ;  he  also  produced  a  dish  of  fruit,  and  some 
sweet  cakes,  and  while  occupied  in  these  duties  as  our  host 
he  began  to  laugh. 

"Ha,  ha!  you  are  caught!"  he  exclaimed  to  me  gayly. 
"  You  must  know  we  planned  this  together,  madame  and  I, 
just  to  take  you  by  surprise.  There  was  no  knowing  when 
you  would  be  persuaded  to  visit  the  contessa,  and  she  could 
not  rest  till  she  had  thanked  you,  so  we  arranged  this  meet- 
ing. Could  anything  be  better?  Come,  conte,  confess  that 
you  are  charmed!" 

"  Of  course  I  am !"  I  answered  with  a  slight  touch  of  satire 
in  my  tone.  "  Who  would  not  be  cnarmed  in  the  presence  of 
such  youth  and  beauty?  And  I  am  also  flattered — for  I  know 
what  exceptional  favor  the  Contessa  Romani  extends  toward 
me  in  allowing  me  to  make  her  acquaintance  at  a  time  which 
must  naturally  be  for  her  a  secluded  season  of  sorrow." 

At  these  words  my  wife's  face  suddenly  assumed  an  expres- 
sion of  wistful  sadness  and  appealing  gentleness. 

"Ah,  poor  unfortunate  Fabio,"  she  sighed.  "  How  terrible 
it  seems  that  he  is  not  here  to  greet  you!  How  gladly  he 
would  have  welcomed  any  friend  of  his  father's — he  adored 
his  father,  poor  fellow !  I  can  not  realize  that  he  is  dead.  It 
was  too  sudden,  too  dreadful !  I  do  not  think  I  shall  ever  re- 
cover the  shock  of  his  loss !" 

And  her  eyes  actually  filled  with  tears ;  though  the  fact  did 
not  surprise  me  in  the  least,  for  many  women  can  weep  at 
will.  Very  little  practice  is  necessary — and  we  men  are  such 
fools,  we  never  know  how  it  is  done ;  we  take  all  the  pretty 
feigned  piteousness  for  real  grief,  and  torture  ourselves  to 
find  methods  of  consolation  for  the  feminine  sorrows  which 
have  no  root    save   in  vanity  and    selfishness.     I    glanced 


vendetta!  *  119 

quickly  from  my  wife  to  Ferrari :  he  coughed,  and  appeared 
embarrassed — he  was  not  so  good  an  actor  as  she  was  an 
actress.  Studying  them  both,  I  know  not  which  feeling 
gained  the  mastery  in  my  mind — contempt  or  disgust. 

"  Console  yourself,  madame,"  I  said,  coldly.  "  Time  should 
be  quick  to  heal  the  wounds  of  one  so  young  and  beautiful  as 
you  are !  Personally  speaking,  I  much  regret  your  husband's 
death,  but  I  would  entrea.t  you  not  to  give  way  to  grief,  which, 
however  sincere,  must  unhappily  be  useless.  Your  life  lies 
before  you — and  may  happy  days  and  as  fair  a  future  await 
you  as  you  deserve !" 

She  smiled ;  her  tear-drops  vanished  like  morning  dew  dis- 
appearing in  the  heat. 

"I  thank  you  for  your  good  wishes,  conte,"  she  said;  "but 
it  rests  with  jt'<?z^  to  commence  my  happy  days  by  honoring 
me  with  a  visit.  You  will  come,  will  you  not?  My  house 
and  all  that  it  contains  are  at  your  service !" 

I  hesitated.     Ferrari  looked  amused. 

"  Madame  is  not  aware  of  your  dislike  to  the  society  of 
ladies,  conte,"  he  said,  and  there  was  a  touch  of  mockery  in 
his  tone.  I  glanced  at  him  coldly,  and  addressed  my  answer 
to  my  wife. 

"  Signer  Ferrari  is  perfectly  right,"  I  said,  bending  over  her, 
and  speaking  in  a  low  tone ;  "  I  am  often  ungallant  enough  to 
avoid  the  society  of  mere  women,  but,  alas !  I  have  no  armor 
of  defense  against  the  smile  of  an  angel." 

And  I  bowed  with  a  deep  and  courtly  reverence.  Her  face 
brightened — she  adored  her  own  loveliness,  and  the  desire  of 
conquest  awoke  in  her  immediately.  She  took  a  glass  of  wine 
from  my  hand  with  a  languid  grace,  and  fixed  her  glorious 
eyes  full  on  me  with  a  smile. 

"That  is  a  very  pretty  speech,"  she  said,  sweetly,  "and  it 
means,  of  course,  that  you  will  come  to-morrow.  Angels  ex- 
act obedience !  Gui — ,  I  mean  Signer  Ferrari,  you  will  accom- 
pany the  conte  and  show  him  the  way  to  the  villa?" 

Ferrari  bent  his  head  with  some  stiffness.  He  looked 
slightly  sullen. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see,"  he  observed,  with  some  petulance,  "  that 
your  persuasions  have  carried  more  conviction  to  the  Conte 
Oliva  than  mine.     To  me  he  was  apparently  inflexible." 

She  laughed  gayly.  "  Of  course !  It  is  only  a  woman  who 
can  always  win  her  own  way — am  I  not  right,  conte?"    And 


I20  vendetta! 

she  glanced  up  at  me  with  an  arch  expression  of  mingled 
mirth  and  malice.  What  a  love  of  mischief  she  had!  She 
saw  that  Guido  was  piqued,  and  she  took  intense  delight  in 
teasing  him  still  further. 

"  I  can  not  tell,  madame,"  I  answered  her.  "  I  know  so  little 
of  your  charming  sex  that  I  need  to  be  instructed.  But  I  in- 
stinctively feel  that  you  must  be  right,  whatever  you  say. 
Your  eyes  would  convert  an  infidel !" 

Again  she  looked  at  me  with  one  of  those  wonderfully 
brilliant,  seductive,  arrowy  glances — then  she  rose  to  take  her 
leave. 

"  An  angel's  visit  truly,"  I  said,  lightly,  "  sweet,  but  brief!" 

"We  shall  meet  to-morrow,"  she  replied,  smiling.  "I  con- 
sider I  have  your  promise ;  you  must  not  fail  me !  Come  as  early 
as  you  like  in  the  afternoon ;  then  you  will  see  my  little  girl 
Stella.     She  is  very  like  poor  Fabio.     Till  to-morrow,  adieu !" 

She  extended  her  hand.  I  raised  it  to  my  lips.  She  smiled 
as  she  withdrew  it,  and  looking  at  me,  or  rather  at  the  glasses 
I  wore,  she  inquired : 

"  You  suffer  with  your  eyes?" 

"Ah,  madame,  a  terrible  infirmity!  I  can  not  endure  the 
light.  But  I  should  not  complain — it  is  a  weakness  common 
to  age." 

"  You  do  not  seem  to  be  old,"  she  said,  thoughtfully.  With 
a  woman's  quick  eye  she  had  noted,  I  suppose,  the  un wrinkled 
smoothness  of  my  skin,  which  no  disguise  could  alter.  But  I 
exclaimed  with  affected  surprise : 

"  Not  old !     With  these  white  hairs !" 

"Many  young  men  have  them,"  she  said.  "At  any  rate, 
they  often  accompany  middle  age,  or  what  is  called  the  prime 
of  life.     And  really,  in  your  case,  they  are  very  becoming!" 

And  with  a  courteous  gesture  of  farewell  she  moved  to  leave 
the  room.  Both  Ferrari  and  myself  hastened  to  escort  her 
down-stairs  to  her  carriage,  which  stood  in  waiting  at  the 
door — the  very  carriage  and  pair  of  chestnut  ponies  which  I 
myself  had  given  her  as  a  birthday  present.  Ferrari  offered 
to  assist  her  in  mounting  the  step  of  the  vehicle ;  she  put  his 
arm  aside  with  a  light  jesting  word  and  accepted  mine  in- 
stead. I  helped  her  in,  and  arranged  her  embroidered  wraps 
about  her  feet,  and  she  nodded  gayly  to  us  both  as  we  stood 
bare-headed  in  the  afternoon  simlight  watching  her  departure. 
The  horses  started  at  a  brisk  canter,  and  in  a  couple  of  min- 


VENDETTA I  121 

ntes  the  dainty  equipage  was  out  of  sight.  When  nothing 
more  of  it  could  be  seen  than  the  cloud  of  dust  stirred  up  by 
its  rolling  wheels,  I  turned  to  look  at  my  companion.  His 
face  was  stern,  and  his  brows  were  drawn  together  in  a  frown. 
Stung  already!  I  thought.  Already  the  little  asp  of  jealousy 
commenced  its  bitter  work!  The  trifling  favor  his  light-o'- 
love  and  my  wife  had  extended  to  me  in  choosing  7ny  arm  instead 
of  his  as  a  momentary  support  had  evidently  been  sufficient 
to  pique  his  pride.  God!  what  blind  bats  men  are  !  With  all 
their  high  capabilities  and  immortal  destinies,  with  all  the 
world  before  them  to  conquer,  they  can  sink  unnerved  and 
beaten  down  to  impotent  weakness  before  the  slighting  word 
or  insolent  gesture  of  a  frivolous  feminine  creature,  whose 
best  devotions  are  paid  to  the  mirror  that  reflects  her  in  the 
most  becoming  light !  How  easy  would  be  my  vengeance,  I 
mused,  as  I  watched  Ferrari.  I  touched  him  on  the  shoulder; 
he  started  from  his  uncomfortable  reverie  and  forced  a  smile. 
I  held  out  a  cigar-case. 

"What  are  you  dreaming  of?"  I  asked  him,  laughingly. 
"  Hebe  as  she  waited  on  the  gods,  or  Venus  as  she  rose  in 
bare  beauty  from  the  waves?  Either,  neither,  or  both?  I 
assure  you  a  comfortable  smoke  is  as  pleasant  in  its  way  as 
the  smile  of  a  woman." 

He  took  a  cigar  and  lighted  it,  but  made  no  answer, 

"You  are  dull,  my  friend,"  I  continued,  gayly,  hooking  my 
arm  through  his  and  pacing  him  up  and  down  on  the  turf  in 
front  of  his  studio.  "  Wit,  they  say,  should  be  sharpened  by 
the  glance  of  a  bright  eye ;  how  comes  it  that  the  edge  of  your 
converse  seems  blunted?  Perhaps  your  feelings  are  too  deep 
for  words?  If  so,  I  do  not  wonder  at  it,  for  the  lady  is  ex- 
tremely lovely." 

He  glanced  quickly  at  me. 

"  Did  I  not  say  so?"  he  exclaimed.  "  Of  all  creatures  under 
heaven  she  is  surely  the  most  perfect!  Even  you,  conte,  with 
your  cynical  ideas  about  women,  even  you  were  quite  subdued 
And  influenced  by  her;  I  could  see  it!" 

I  puffed  slowly  at  my  cigar  and  pretended  to  meditate. 

"Was  I?"  I  said  at  last,  with  an  air  of  well-acted  surprise. 
"  Really  subdued  and  influenced?  I  do  not  think  so.  But  I 
admit  I  have  never  seen  a  woman  so  entirely  beautiful." 

He  stopped  in  his  walk,  loosened  his  arm  from  mine,  and 
regarded  me  fixedly. 


122  vendetta! 

"  I  told  you  so,"  he  said,  deliberately.  "  You  must  remem- 
ber that  I  told  you  so.  And  now  perhaps  I  ought  to  warn 
you." 

"  Warn  me !"  I  exclaimed,  in  feigned  alarm.  "  Of  what? 
against  whom?  Surely  not  the  Contessa  Romani,  to  whom 
you  were  so  anxious  to  introduce  me?  She  has  no  illness,  no 
infectious  disorder?  She  is  not  dangerous  to  life  or  limb,  is 
she?" 

Ferrari  laughed  at  the  anxiety  I  displayed  for  my  own 
bodily  safety — an  anxiety  which  I  managed  to  render  almost 
comic — but  he  looked  somewhat  relieved  too. 

"  Oh,  no,"  he  said,  "  I  meant  nothing  of  that  kind.  I  only 
think  it  fair  to  tell  you  that  she  has  very  seductive  manners, 
and  she  may  pay  you  little  attentions  which  would  flatter  any 
man  who  was  not  aware  that  they  are  only  a  part  of  her  child- 
like, pretty  ways ;  in  short,  they  might  lead  him  erroneously 
to  suppose  himself  the  object  of  her  particular  preference, 
and— " 

I  broke  into  a  violent  fit  of  laughter,  and  clapped  him 
roughly  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Your  warning  is  quite  unnecessary,  my  good  young 
friend,"  I  said.  "  Come  now,  do  I  look  a  likely  man  to  attract 
the  attention  of  an  adored  and  capricious  beauty?  Besides, 
at  my  age  the  idea  is  monstrous !  I  could  figure  as  her  father, 
as  yours,  if  you  like,  but  in  the  capacity  of  a  lover — im- 
possible !" 

He  eyed  me  attentively. 

"  She  said  you  did  not  seem  old,"  he  murmured,  half  to 
himself  and  half  to  me. 

"  Oh,  I  grant  you  she  made  me  that  little  compliment,  cer- 
tainly," I  answered,  amused  at  the  suspicions  that  evidently 
tortured  his  mind ;  "  and  I  accepted  it  as  it  was  meant — in 
kindness.  I  am  well  aware  what  a  battered  and  unsightly 
wreck  of  a  man  I  must  appear  in  her  eyes  when  contrasted 
with  you,  Sir  Antinous !" 

He  flushed  warmly.  Then,  with  a  half-apologetic  air,  he 
said: 

"  Well,  you  must  forgive  me  if  I  have  seemed  overscrupu- 
lous. The  contessa  is  like  a — a  sister  to  m» ;  in  fact,  my  late 
friend  Fabio  encouraged  a  fraternal  affection  between  us,  and 
now  he  is  gone  I  feel  it  more  than  ever  my  duty  to  protect 
her,  as  it  were,  from  herself.     She  is  so  young  and  light- 


vendetta!  123 

hearted  and  thoughtless  that — but  you  understand  me,  do  you 
not?" 

I  bowed.  I  understood  him  perfectly.  He  wanted  no  more 
poachers  on  the  land  he  himself  had  pilfered.  Quite  right, 
from  his  point  of  view !  But  I  was  the  rightful  owner  of  the 
land  after  all,  and  I  naturally  had  a  difiEerent  opinion  of  the 
matter.  However,  I  made  no  remark,  and  feigned  to  be  rather 
bored  by  the  turn  the  conversation  was  taking.  Seeing  this, 
Ferrari  exerted  himself  to  be  agreeable ;  he  became  a  gay  and 
entertaining  companion  once  more,  and  after  he  had  fixed  the 
hour  for  our  visit  to  the  Villa  Romani  the  next  afternoon,  our 
talk  turned  upon  various  matters  connected  with  Naples  and 
its  inhabitants  and  their  mode  of  life.  I  hazarded  a  few  re- 
marks on  the  general  immorality  and  loose  principles  that 
prevailed  among  the  people,  just  to  draw  my  companion  out 
and  sound  his  character  more  thoroughly — though  I  thought 
I  knew  his  opinions  well. 

"  Pooh,  my  dear  conte,"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  light  laugh, 
as  he  threw  away  the  end  of  his  cigar,  and  watched  it  as  it 
burned  dully  like  a  little  red  lamp  among  the  green  grass 
where  it  had  fallen,  "  what  is  immorality  after  all.>  Merely  a 
matter  of  opinion.  Take  the  hackneyed  virtue  of  conjugal 
fidelity.  "When  followed  out  to  the  bitter  end,  what  is  the 
good  of  it — where  does  it  lead?  Why  should  a  man  be  tied  to 
one  woman  when  he  has  love  enough  for  twenty?  The  pretty 
slender  girl  whom  he  chose  as  a  partner  in  his  impulsive 
youth  may  become  a  fat,  coarse,  red-faced  female  horror  by 
the  time  he  has  attained  to  the  full  vigor  of  manhood ;  and 
yet,  as  long  as  she  lives,  the  law  insists  that  the  full  tide  of 
passion  shall  flow  always  in  one  direction — always  to  the  same 
dull,  level,  unprofitable  shore !  The  law  is  absurd,  but  it  ex- 
ists; and  the  natural  consequence  is  that  we  break  it. 
Society  pretends  to  be  horrified  when  we  do — yes,  I  know; 
but  it  is  all  pretense.  And  the  thing  is  no  worse  in  Naples 
than  it  is  in  London,  the  capital  of  the  moral  British  race, 
only  here  we  are  perfectly  frank,  and  make  no  effort  to  hide 
our  little  sins,  while  there  they  cover  them  up  carefully  and 
make  believe  to  be  virtuous.  It  is  the  veriest  humbug — the 
parable  of  Pharisee  and  Publican  over  again." 

"Not  quite,"  I  observed;  "for  the  Publican  was  repentant 
and  Naples  is  not." 

"  Why  should  she  be?"  demanded  Ferrari,  gayly ;  "  what,  in 


124  vendetta! 

the  name  of  Heaven,  is  the  good  of  being  penitent  about  any* 
thing?  Will  it  mend  matters?  Who  is  to  be  pacified  or 
pleased  by  our  contrition?  God?  My  dear  conte,  there  are 
very  few  of  us  nowadays  who  believe  in  a  Deity.  Creation  is 
a  mere  caprice  of  the  natural  elements.  The  best  thing  we 
can  do  is  to  enjoy  ourselves  while  we  live;  we  have  a  very 
short  time  of  it,  and  when  we  die  there  is  an  end  of  all  things 
so  far  as  we  are  concerned." 

"  That  is  your  creed?"  I  asked. 

"  That  is  my  creed,  certainly.  It  was  Solomon's,  in  his 
heart  of  hearts.  'Eat,  drink  and  be  merry,  for  to-morrow  we 
die. '  It  is  the  creed  of  Naples,  and  of  nearly  all  Italy.  Of 
course  th«  vulgar  still  cling  to  exploded  theories  of  super- 
stitious belief,  but  the  educated  classes  are  far  beyond  the 
old-world  notions." 

"I  believe  you,"  I  answered,  composedly.  I  had  no  wish 
to  argue  with  him ;  I  only  sought  to  read  his  shallow  soul 
through  and  through  that  I  might  be  convinced  of  his  utter 
worthlessness.  "  According  to  modern  civilization  there  is 
really  no  special  need  to  be  virtuous  unless  it  suits  us.  The 
only  thing  necessary  for  pleasant  living  is  to  avoid  public 
scandal." 

"  Just  so !"  agreed  Ferrari ;  "  and  that  can  always  be  easily 
managed.  Take  a  woman's  reputation — nothing  is  so  easily 
lost,  we  all  know,  before  she  is  actually  married;  but  marry 
her  well,  and  she  is  free.  She  can  have  a  dozen  lovers  if  she 
likes,  and  if  she  is  a  good  manager  her  husband  need  never  be 
the  wiser.  He  has  his  amours,  of  course — why  should  she  not 
have  hers  also?  Only  some  women  are  clumsy,  they  are  over- 
sensitive and  betray  themselves  too  easily;  then  the  injured 
husband  (carefully  concealing  his  own  little  peccadilloes) 
finds  everything  out  and  there  is  a  devil  of  a  row — a  moral 
row,  which  is  the  worst  kind  of  row.  But  a  really  clever 
woman  can  always  steer  clear  of  slander  if  she  likes." 

Contemptible  ruffian !  I  thought,  glancing  at  his  handsome 
face  and  figure  with  scarcely  veiled  contempt.  With  all  his 
advantages  of  education  and  his  well-bred  air  he  was  yet 
ruffian  to  the  core — as  low  in  nature,  if  not  lower,  than  the 
half-savage  tramp  for  whom  no  social  law  has  ever  existed  or 
ever  will  exist.     But  I  merely  observed: 

"  It  is  easy  to  see  that  you  have  a  thorough  knowledge  of 
the  world  and  its  ways.     I  admire  your  perception!    From 


vendetta!  125 

your  remarks  I  judge  that  you  have  no  sympathy  with  marital 
wrongs?" 

"Not  the  least,"  he  replied,  dryly;  "  they  are  too  common 
and  too  ludicrous.  The  'wronged  husband,'  as  he  considers 
himself  in  such  cases,  always  cuts  such  an  absurd  figure." 

"  Always?"  I  inquired,  with  apparent  curiosity. 

"  Well,  generally  speaking,  he  does.  How  can  he  remedy 
the  matter?  He  can  only  challenge  his  wife's  lover.  A  duel 
is  fought  in  which  neither  of  the  opponents  are  killed,  they 
wound  each  other  slightly,  embrace,  weep,  have  coffee  to- 
gether, and  for  the  future  consent  to  share  the  lady's  affec- 
tions amicably." 

"  Veramentc!"  I  exclaimed,  with  a  forced  laugh,  inwardly 
cursing  his  detestable  flippancy;  "that  is  the  fashionable 
mode  of  taking  vengeance?" 

"  Absolutely  the  one  respectable  way  of  doing  it,"  he  re- 
plied; "it  is  only  the  canaille  who  draw  heart's  blood  in 
earnest." 

Only  the  canaille!  I  looked  at  him  fixedly.  His  smiling 
eyes  met  mine  with  a  frank  and  fearless  candor.  Evidently 
he  was  not  ashamed  of  his  opinions,  he  rather  gloried  in  them. 
As  he  stood  there  with  the  warm  sunlight  playing  upon  his 
features  he  seemed  the  very  type  of  youthful  and  splendid 
manhood;  an  Apollo  in  exterior — in  mind  a  Silenus.  My  soul 
sickened  at  the  sight  of  him.  I  felt  that  the  sooner  this  strong 
treacherous  life  was  crushed  the  better;  there  would  be  one 
traitor  less  in  the  world  at  any  rate.  The  thought  of  my 
dread  but  just  purpose  passed  over  me  like  the  breath  of  a 
bitter  wind — a  tremor  shook  my  nerves.  My  face  must  have 
betrayed  some  sign  of  my  inward  emotion,  for  Ferrari 
exclaimed : 

"  You  are  fatigued,  conte?  You  are  ill?  Pray  take  my 
arm !" 

He  extended  it  as  he  spoke.  I  put  it  gently  but  firmly 
aside. 

"It  is  nothing,"  I  said,  coldly;  "a  mere  faintness  which 
often  overcomes  me,  the  remains  of  a  recent  illness."  Here  I 
glanced  at  my  watch ;  the  afternoon  was  waning  rapidly. 

"  If  you  will  excuse  me,"  I  continued,  "  I  will  now  take  leave 
of  you.  Regarding  the  pictures  you  have  permitted  me  to 
select,  my  servant  shall  call  for  them  this  evening  to  save  you 
the  trouble  of  sending  them." 


126  vendetta! 

"  It  is  no  trouble — "  began  Ferrari. 

"Pardon  me,"  I  interrupted  him;  "  you  must  allow  me  to 
arrange  the  matter  in  my  own  way.  I  am  somewhat  self- 
willed,  as  you  know." 

He  bowed  and  smiled — the  smile  of  a  courtier  and  syco- 
phant— a  smile  I  hated.  He  eagerly  proposed  to  accompany 
me  back  to  my  hotel,  but  I  declined  this  offer  somewhat  per- 
emptorily, though  at  the  same  time  thanking  him  for  his 
courtesy.  The  truth  was  I  had  had  almost  too  much  of  his 
society ;  the  strain  on  my  nerves  began  to  tell ;  I  craved  to  be 
alone.  I  felt  that  if  I  were  much  longer  with  him  I  should  be 
tempted  to  spring  at  him  and  throttle  the  life  out  of  him.  As 
it  was,  I  bade  him  adieu  with  friendly  though  constrained 
politeness;  he  was  profuse  in  his  acknowledgments  of  the 
favor  I  had  done  him  by  purchasing  his  pictures.  I  waved 
all  thanks  aside,  assuring  him  that  my  satisfaction  in  the  mat- 
ter far  exceeded  his,  and  that  I  was  proud  to  be  the  possessor 
of  such  valuable  proofs  of  his  genius.  He  swallowed  my  flat- 
tery as  eagerly  as  a  fish  swallows  bait,  and  we  parted  on  ex- 
cellent terms.  He  watched  me  from  his  door  as  I  walked 
down  the  hilly  road  with  the  slow  and  careful  step  of  an 
elderly  man ;  once  out  of  his  sight,  however,  I  quickened  my 
pace,  for  the  tempest  of  conflicting  sensations  within  me  made 
it  difficult  for  me  to  maintain  even  the  appearance  of  compo- 
sure. On  entering  my  apartment  at  the  hotel  the  first  thing 
that  met  ray  eyes  was  a  large  gilt  osier  basket,  filled  with  fine 
fruit  and  flowers,  placed  conspicuously  on  the  center-table. 

I  summoned  my  valet.     "  Who  sent  this?"  I  demanded. 

"  Madame  the  Contessa  Romani,"  replied  Vincenzo,  with 
discreet  gravity.  "  There  is  a  card  attached,  if  the  eccellenza 
will  be  pleased  to  look." 

I  did  look.  It  was  my  wife's  visiting-card,  and  on  it  was 
written  in  her  own  delicate  penmanship — 

"  To  remind  the  conte  of  his  promised  visit  to-morrow." 

A  sudden  anger  possessed  me.  I  crumpled  up  the  dainty 
glossy  bit  of  pasteboard  and  flung  it  aside.  The  mingled 
odors  of  the  fruit  and  flowers  offended  my  senses. 

"  I  care  nothing  for  these  trifles,"  I  said,  addressing  Vin- 
cenzo almost  impatiently.  "  Take  them  to  the  little  daughter 
of  the  hotel-keeper ;  she  is  a  child,  she  will  appreciate  them. 
Take  them  away  at  once." 

Obediently  Vincenzo  lifted  the  basket  and  bore  it  out  of  the 


vendetta!  127 

room.  I  was  relieved  when  its  fragrance  and  color  had  van- 
ished. I  to  receive  as  a  gift  the  product  of  my  own  garden. 
Half  vexed,  half  sore  at  heart,  I  threw  myself  into  an  easy- 
chair — anon  I  laughed  aloud !  So !  Madame  commences  the 
game  early,  I  thought.  Already  paying  these  marked  atten- 
tions to  a  man  she  knows  nothing  of,  beyond  that  he  is  re- 
ported to  be  fabulously  wealthy.  Gold,  gold  forever!  What 
will  it  not  do?  It  will  bring  the  proud  to  their  knees,  it  will 
force  the  obstinate  to  servile  compliance,  it  will  conquer 
aversion  and  prejudice.  The  world  is  a  slave  to  its  yellow 
glitter,  and  the  love  of  woman,  that  perishable  article  of 
commerce,  is  ever  at  its  command.  Would  you  obtain  a  kiss 
from  a  pair  of  ripe-red  lips  that  seem  the  very  abode  of  hon- 
eyed sweetness?  Pay  for  it  then  with  a  lustrous  diamond;  the 
larger  the  gem  the  longer  the  kiss !  The  more  diamonds  you 
give,  the  more  caresses  you  will  get.  The  jeunesse  dorde  who 
ruin  themselves  and  their  ancestral  homes  for  the  sake  of  the 
newest  and  prettiest  female  puppet  on  the  stage  know  this  well 
enough.  I  smiled  bitterly  as  I  thought  of  the  languid  witch- 
ing look  my  wife  had  given  me  when  she  said,  "  You  do  not 
seem  to  be  old!"  I  knew  the  meaning  of  her  eyes;  I  had  not 
studied  their  liquid  lights  and  shadows  so  long  for  nothing. 
My  road  to  revenge  was  a  straight  and  perfectly  smooth  line — 
almost  too  smooth.  I  could  have  wished  for  some  difficulty, 
some  obstruction ;  but  there  was  none — absolutely  none.  The 
traitors  walked  deliberately  into  the  trap  set  for  them.  Over 
and  over  again  I  asked  myself  quietly  and  in  cold  blood — was 
there  any  reason  why  I  should  have  pity  on  them?  Had  they 
shown  one  redeeming  point  in  their  characters?  Was  there 
any  nobleness,  any  honesty,  any  real  sterling  good  quality  in 
either  of  them  to  justify  my  consideration?  And  always  the 
answer  came.  No!  Hollow  to  the  heart's  core,  hypocrites 
both,  liars  both — even  the  guilty  passion  they  cherished  for 
one  another  had  no  real  earnestness  in  it  save  the  pursuit  of 
present  pleasure ;  for  she,  Nina,  in  that  fatal  interview  in  the 
avenue  where  I  had  been  a  tortured  listener,  had  hinted  at  the 
possibility  of  tiring  of  her  lover,  and  he  had  frankly  declared 
to  me  that  very  day  that  it  was  absurd  to  suppose  a  man  could 
be  true  to  one  woman  all  his  life.  In  brief,  they  deserved 
their  approaching  fate.  Such  men  as  Guido  and  such  women 
as  my  wife,  are,  I  know,  common  enough  in  all  classes  of 
society,  but  they  are  not  the  less  pernicious  animals,  meriting 


128  vendetta! 

extermination  as  much,  if  not  more,  than  the  less  harmful 
beasts  of  prey.  The  poor  beasts  at  any  rate  tell  no  lies,  and 
after  death  their  skins  are  of  some  value ;  but  who  shall  meas- 
ure the  mischief  done  by  a  false  tongue — and  of  what  use  is 
the  corpse  of  a  liar  save  to  infect  the  air  Vv^ith  pestilence?  I 
used  to  wonder  at  the  superiority  of  men  over  the  rest  of  the 
animal  creation,  but  I  see  now  that  it  is  chiefly  gained  by 
excess  of  selfish  cunning.  The  bulky,  good-natured,  ignorant 
lion  who  has  only  one  honest  way  of  defending  himself, 
namely,  with  tooth  and  claw,  is  no  match  for  the  jumping  two- 
legged  little  rascal  who  hides  himself  behind  a  bush  and  fires 
a  gun  aimed  direct  at  the  bigger  brute's  heart.  Yet  the  lion 
mode  of  battle  is  the  braver  of  the  two,  and  the  cannons,  tor- 
pedoes and  other  implements  of  modern  warfare  are  proofs  of 
man's  cowardice  and  cruelty  as  much  as  they  are  of  his  dia- 
bolical ingenuity.  Calmly  comparing  the  ordinary  lives  of 
men  and  beasts — judging  them  by  their  abstract  virtues 
merely — I  am  inclined  to  think  the  beasts  the  more  respect- 
able of  the  two ! 


CHAPTER  XV. 

"  Welcome  to  Villa  Romani!" 

The  words  fell  strangely  on  my  ears.  Was  I  dreaming,  or 
was  I  actually  standing  on  the  smooth  green  lawn  of  my  own 
garden,  mechanically  saluting  my  own  wife,  who,  smiling 
sweetly,  uttered  this  cordial  greeting?  For  a  moment  or  two 
my  brain  became  confused;  the  familiar  veranda  with  its 
clustering  roses  and  jasmine  swayed  unsteadily  before  my 
eyes;  the  stately  house,  the  home  of  my  childhood,  the  scene 
of  my  past  happiness,  rocked  in  the  air  as  though  it  were 
about  to  fall.  A  choking  sensation  affected  my  throat.  Even 
the  sternest  men  shed  tears  sometimes.  Such  tears  too! — 
wrung  like  drops  of  blood  from  the  heart.  And  I — I  could  have 
wept  thus.  Oh,  the  dear  old  home !  and  how  fair  and  yet  how 
sad  it  seemed  to  my  anguished  gaze !  It  should  have  been  in 
ruins  surely — broken  and  cast  down  in  the  dust  like  its  mas- 
ter's peace  and  honor.  Its  master,  did  I  say?  Who  was  its 
master?  Involuntarily  I  glanced  at  Ferrari,  who  stood  beside 
me.  Not  he — not  he;  by  Heaven  he  should  never  be  master! 
But  where  was  7ny  authority?    I  came  to  the  place  as  a  stranger 


vendetta!  129 

and  an  alien.  The  starving  beggar  who  knows  not  where  to 
lay  his  head  has  no  emptier  or  more  desolate  heart  than  I  had 
as  I  looked  wistfully  on  the  home  which  was  mine  before  I 
died!  I  noticed  some  slight  changes  here  and  there ;  for  in- 
stance, my  deep  easy-chair  that  had  always  occupied  one  par- 
ticular corner  of  the  veranda  was  gone ;  a  little  tame  bird  that 
I  had  loved,  whose  cage  used  to  hang  up  among  the  white 
'roses  on  the  wall,  was  also  gone.  My  old  butler,  the  servant 
who  admitted  Ferrari  and  myself  within  the  gates,  had  an 
expression  of  weariness  and  injury  on  his  aged  features  which 
he  had  not  worn  in  my  time,  and  which  I  was  sorry  to  see. 
And  my  dog,  the  noble  black  Scotch  collie,  what  had  become 
of  him?  I  wondered.  He  had  been  presented  to  me  by  a  young 
Highlander  who  had  passed  one  winter  with  me  in  Rome,  and 
who,  on  returning  to  his  native  mountains,  had  sent  me  the 
dog,  a  perfect  specimen  of  its  kind,  as  a  souvenir  of  our 
friendly  intercourse.  Poor  Wyvis!  I  thought.  Had  they 
made  away  with  him?  Formerly  he  had  always  been  visible 
about  the  house  or  garden;  his  favorite  place  was  on  the 
lowest  veranda  step,  where  he  loved  to  bask  in  the  heat  of  the 
sun.  And  now  he  was  nowhere  visible.  I  was  mutely  indig- 
nant at  his  disappearance,  but  I  kept  strict  watch  over  my 
feelings,  and  remembered  in  time  the  part  I  had  to  play. 

"  Welcome  to  Villa  Romani !"  so  said  my  wife.  Then,  re- 
marking my  silence  as  I  looked  about  me,  she  added  with  a 
pretty  coaxing  air : 

"  I  am  afraid  after  all  you  are  sorry  you  have  come  to  see 
me." 

I  smiled.     It  served  my  purpose  now  to  be  as  gallant  and 
j agreeable  as  I  could;  therefore  I  answered: 
I     "  Sorry,  madame !    If  I  were,  then  should  I  be  the  most  im- 
grateful  of  all  men !    Was  Dante  sorry,  think  you,  when  he 
was  permitted  to  behold  Paradise?" 

She  blushed ;  her  eyes  drooped  softly  under  their  long  curl- 
ing lashes.  Ferrari  frowned  impatiently — but  was  silent. 
She  led  the  way  into  the  house — into  the  lofty  cool  drawing- 
room,  whose  wide  windows  opened  out  to  the  garden.  Here 
all  was  the  same  as  ever  with  the  exception  of  one  thing — a 
marble  bust  of  myself  as  a  boy  had  been  removed.  The  grand 
piano  was  open;  the  mandoline  lay  on  a  side-table,  looking  as 
though  it  had  been  recently  used;  there  were  fresh  flowers 
and  ferns  in  all  the  tall  Venetian  glass  vases.  I  seated  myself 
9 


130 


VENDETTA ! 


and  remarked  on  the  beauty  of  the  house  and  its  surround- 
ings. 

"  I  remember  it  very  well,"  I  added,  quietly. 

"You  remember  it!"  exclaimed  Ferrari,  quickly,  as  though 
surprised. 

"Certainly.  I  omitted  to  tell  j'ou,  my  friend,  that  I  used  to 
visit  this  spot  often  when  a  boy.  The  elder  Conte  Romani 
and  mj'self  played  about  these  grounds  together.  The  scene 
is  quite  familiar  to  me." 

Nina  listened  with  an  appearance  of  interest. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  my  late  husband  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Once,"  I  answered  her,  gravely.  "  He  was  a  mere  child  at 
the  time,  and,  as  far  as  I  could  discern,  a  very  promising  one. 
His  father  seemed  greatly  attached  to  him.  I  knew  his  mother 
also." 

"Indeed,"  she  exclaimed,  settling  herself  on  a  low  ottoman 
and  fixing  her  eyes  upon  me  ;  "  what  was  she  like  ?  " 

I  paused  a  moment  before  replying.  Could  I  speak  of  that 
unstained  sacred  life  of  wifehood  and  motherhood  to  this 
polluted  though  lovely  creature  ? 

"She  was  a  beautiful  woman,  unconscious  of  her  beauty,"  I 
answered  at  last.  "There,  all  is  said.  Her  sole  aim  seemed 
to  be  to  forget  herself  in  making  others  happy,  and  to  surround 
her  home  with  an  atmosphere  of  goodness  and  virtue.  She 
died  young." 

Ferrari  glanced  at  me  with  an  evil  sneer  in  his  eyes. 

"That  was  fortunate,''  he  said.  She  had  no  time  to  tire  of 
her  husband,  else — who  knows  ?  " 

My  blood  rose  rapidly  to  an  astonishing  heat,  but  I  con- 
trolled myself. 

"I  do  not  understand  you,"  I  said,  with  marked  frigidity. 
"The  lady  I  speak  of  lived  and  died  under  the  old  regime  of 
noblesse  oblige.  I  am  not  so  well  versed  in  modern  social  forms 
of  morality  as  yourself" 

Nina  hastily  interposed.  "Oh,  my  dear  conte,"  she  said, 
laughingly,  ' '  pay  no  attention  to  Signor  Ferrari !  He  is  rash 
sometimes,  and  says  very  foolish  things,  but  he  really  does 
not  mean  them.  It  is  only  his  way  !  My  poor  dear  husband 
used  to  be  quite  vexed  with  him  sometimes,  though  he  was  so 
fond  of  him.  But,  conte,  as  you  know  so  much  about  the 
family,  I  am  sure  you  will  like  to  see  my  little  Stella.  Shall 
I  send  for  her,  or  are  you  bored  by  children  ?  " 


VENDETTA!  I3I 

On  the  contrary,  madame,  I  am  fond  of  them,"  I  answered, 
with  forced  composure,  though  my  heart  throbbed  with  min- 
gled delight  and  agony  at  the  thought  of  seeing  my  little  one 
again.  "  And  the  child  of  my  old  friend's  son  must  needs 
have  a  double  interest  for  me." 

My  wife  rang  the  bell,  and  gave  orders  to  the  maid  who 
answered  it  to  send  her  little  girl  to  her  at  once.  Ferrari 
meanwhile  engaged  me  in  conversation,  and  strove,  I  could 
see,  by  entire  deference  to  my  opinions,  to  make  up  for  any 
offence  his  previous  remark  might  have  given.  A  few  mo- 
ments passed — and  then  the  handle  of  the  drawing-room  door 
was  timidly  turned  by  an  evidently  faltering  and  unpracticed 
hand.  Nina  called  out  impatiently — "  Come  in,  baby !  Do  not 
be  afraid — come  in !"  With  that  the  door  slowly  opened  and 
my  little  daughter  entered.  Though  I  had  been  so  short  a 
time  absent  from  her,  it  was  easy  to  see  the  child  had  changed 
very  much.  Her  face  looked  pinched  and  woe-begone ;  its 
expression  was  one  of  fear  and  distrust.  The  laughter  had 
faded  out  of  her  young  eyes,  and  was  replaced  by  a  serious 
look  of  pained  resignation  that  was  pitiful  to  see  in  one  of  her 
tender  years.  Her  mouth  drooped  plaintively  at  the  corners 
— her  whole  demeanor  had  an  appealing  anxiety  in  it  that 
spoke  plainly  to  my  soul  and  enlightened  me  as  to  the  way 
she  had  evidently  been  forgotten  and  neglected.  She  ap- 
proached us  hesitatingly,  but  stopped  half-way  and  looked 
doubtfully  at  Ferrari.  He  met  her  alarmed  gaze  with  a 
mocking  smile. 

"  Come  along,  Stella !"  he  said.  "  You  need  not  be  fright- 
ened! I  will  not  scold  you  unless  you  are  naughty.  Silly 
child !  you  look  as  if  I  were  the  giant  in  the  fairy  tale,  going 
to  eat  you  up  for  dinner.  Come  and  speak  to  this  gentleman 
— he  knew  your  papa." 

At  this  word  her  eyes  brightened,  her  small  steps  grew 
more  assured  and  steady — she  advanced  and  put  her  tiny  hand 
in  mine.  The  touch  of  the  soft,  uncertain  little  fingers  almost 
unmanned  me.  I  drew  her  toward  me  and  lifted  her  on  my 
knee.  Under  pretence  of  kissing  her  I  hid  my  face  for  a  sec- 
ond or  two  in  her  clustering  fair  curls,  while  I  forced  back  the 
womanish  tears  that  involuntarily  filled  my  eyes.  My  poor 
little  darling!  I  wonder  now  how  I  maintained  my  set  com- 
posure before  the  innocent  thoughtfulness  of  her  gravely 
questioning  gaze  I 


132 


vendetta! 


I  had  fancied  she  might  possibly  be  scared  by  the  black 
spectacles   I   wore— children   are  frightened  by  such  things 
sometimes— but  she  was  not.     No ;   she  sat  on  my  knee  with 
an  air  of  perfect  satisfaction,  though  she  looked  at  me  so 
earnestly  as  almost  to  disturb  my  self-possession.     Nina  and 
Ferrari  watched  her  with  some  amusement,  but  she  paid  no 
heed  to  them— she  persisted  in  staring  at  me.     Suddenly  a 
slow  sweet  smile — the  tranquil  smile  of  a  contented  baby, 
dawned  all  over  her  face ;   she  extended  her  little  arms,  and, 
of  her  own  accord,  put  up  her  lips  to  kiss  me !     Half  startled 
at  this  manifestation  of  affection,  I  hurriedly  caught  her  to 
my  heart  and  returned  her  caress— then  I  looked  furtively  at 
my   wife   and   Guido.     Had   they   any   suspicion?    No!  why 
should  they  have  any?     Had  not  Ferrari  himself  seen   me 
buried?    Reassured  by  this  thought   I   addressed  myself  to 
Stella,  making  my  voice  as  gratingly  harsh  as  I  could,  for 
I  dreaded  the  child's  quick  instinct. 

"  You  are  a  very  charming  little  lady !"  I  said,  playfully. 
"  And  so  your  name  is  Stella?  That  is  because  you  are  a  little 
star,  I  suppose?" 

She  became  meditative.  "  Papa  said  I  was,"  she  answered, 
softly  and  shyly. 

"Papa  spoiled  you!"  interposed  Nina,  pressing  a  filmy 
black-bordered  handkerchief  to  her  eyes.  "  Poor  papa!  You 
were  not  so  naughty  to  him  as  you  are  to  me." 

The  child's  lip  quivered,  but  she  was  silent. 

"Oh,  fy!"  I  murmured,  half  chidingly.  "Are  you  ever 
naughty?  Surely  not!  All  little  stars  are  good— they  never 
cry — they  are  always  bright  and  calm." 

Still  she  remained  mute — a  sigh,  deep  enough  for  an  oldei 
sufferer,  heaved  her  tiny  breast.  She  leaned  her  head  against 
my  arm  and  raised  her  eyes  appealingly. 

"  Have  you  seen  my  papa?"  she  asked,  timidly.  "  Will  he 
come  back  soon?" 

For  a  moment  I  did  not  answer  her.  Ferrari  took  it  upon 
himself  to  reply  roughly. 

"Don't  talk  nonsense,  baby!  You  know  your  papa  has 
gone  away — you  were  too  naughty  for  him,  and  he  will  never 
come  back  again.  He  has  gone  to  a  place  where  there  are  no 
tiresome  little  girls  to  tease  him." 

Thoughtless  and  cruel  words!  I  at  once  understood  the 
secret  erief  that  weighed  on  the  child's  mind.     Whenever  she 


vendetta!  133 

was  fretful  or  petulant,  they  evidently  impressed  it  upon  hef 
that  her  father  had  left  her  because  of  her  naughtiness.  She 
had  taken  this  deeply  to  heart ;  no  doubt  she  had  brooded  upon 
it  in  her  own  vag^e  childish  fashion,  and  had  puzzled  her  lit- 
tle brain  as  to  what  she  could  possibly  have  done  to  displease 
her  father  so  greatly  that  he  had  actually  gone  away  never  to 
return.  Whatever  her  thoughts  were,  she  did  not  on  this 
occasion  give  vent  to  them  by  tears  or  words.  She  only 
turned  her  eyes  on  Ferrari  with  a  look  of  intense  pride  and 
scorn,  strange  to  see  in  so  little  a  creature — a  true  Romani 
look,  such  as  I  had  often  noticed  in  my  father's  eyes,  and 
such  as  I  knew  must  be  frequently  visible  in  my  own.  Fer- 
rari saw  it,  and  burst  out  laughing  loudly. 

"  There !"  he  exclaimed.  "  Like  that  she  exactly  resembles 
her  father !  It  is  positively  ludicrous !  Fabio  all  over !  She 
only  wants  one  thing  to  make  the  portrait  perfect."  And  ap- 
proaching her,  he  snatched  one  of  her  long  curls  and  endeav- 
ored to  twist  it  over  her  mouth  in  the  form  of  a  mustache. 
The  child  struggled  angrily,  and  hid  her  face  against  my  coat. 
The  more  she  tried  to  defend  herself  the  greater  the  malice 
with  which  Ferrari  tormented  her.  Her  mother  did  not  inter- 
fere— she  only  laughed.  I  held  the  little  thing  closely  shel- 
tered in  my  embrace,  and  steadying  down  the  quiver  of 
indignation  in  my  voice,  I  said  with  quiet  firmness: 

"  Fair  play,  signor !  Fair  play !  Strength  becomes  mere 
bullying  when  it  is  employed  against  absolute  weakness." 

Ferrari  laughed  again,  but  this  time  uneasily,  and  ceasing 
his  monkeyish  pranks,  walked  to  the  window.  Smoothing 
Stella's  tumbled  hair,  I  added  with  a  sarcastic  smile : 

"  This  little  donzella  will  have  her  revenge  when  she  grows 
up.  Recollecting  how  one  man  teased  her  in  childhood,  she, 
in  return,  will  consider  herself  justified  in  teasing  all  men. 
Do  you  not  agree  with  me,  madame?"  I  said,  turning  to  my 
wife,  who  gave  me  a  sweetly  coquettish  look  as  she  answered: 

"  Well,  really,  conte,  I  do  not  know !  For  with  the  remem- 
brance of  one  man  who  teased  her  must  come  also  the 
thought  of  another  who  was  kind  to  her — yourself — she  wili 
find  it  difficult  to  decide  WiQJziste  milieu." 

A  subtle  compliment  was  meant  to  be  conveyed  in  these 
words.  I  acknowledged  it  by  a  silent  gesture  of  admiration, 
which  she  quickly  understood  and  accepted.  Was  ever  a  man 
in  the  position  of  being  delicately  flattered  by  his  own  wife 


134  vendetta! 

before?  I  think  not!  Generally  married  persons  are  like 
candid  friends — fond  of  telling  each  other  very  unpleasant 
truths,  and  altogether  avoiding  the  least  soup^on  of  flattery. 
Though  I  was  not  so  much  flattered  as  amused — considering 
the  position  of  affairs!  Just  then  a  servant  threw  open  the 
door  and  announced  dinner.  I  set  my  child  very  gently  down 
from  my  knee  and  whisperingly  told  her  that  I  would  come 
and  see  her  soon  again.  She  smiled  trustfully,  and  then  in 
obedience  to  her  mother's  imperative  gesture,  slipped  quietly 
out  of  the  room.  As  soon  as  she  had  gone  I  praised  her 
beauty  warmly,  for  she  was  really  a  lovely  little  thing — but  I 
could  see  my  admiration  of  her  was  not  very  acceptable  to 
either  my  wife  or  her  lover.  We  all  went  in  to  dinner — I,  as 
guest,  having  the  privilege  of  escorting  my  fair  and  spotless 
spouse !     On  our  reaching  the  dining-room  Nina  said : 

"  You  are  such  an  old  friend  of  the  family,  conte,  that  per- 
haps you  will  not  mind  sitting  at  the  head  of  the  table?" 

"  Tropp'  onore,  signora !"  I  answered,  bowing  gallantly,  as  I 
at  once  resumed  my  rightful  place  at  my  own  table,  Ferrari 
placing  himself  on  my  right  hand,  Nina  on  my  left.  The  but- 
ler, my  father's  servant  and  mine,  stood  as  of  old  behind  my 
chair,  and  I  noticed  that  each  time  he  sitpplied  me  with  wine 
he  eyed  me  with  a  certain  timid  curiosity — but  I  knew  I  had 
a  singular  and  conspicuous  appearance,  which  easily  ac- 
counted for  his  inquisitiveness.  Opposite  to  where  I  sat 
hung  my  father's  portrait — the  character  I  personated  per- 
mitted me  to  look  at  it  fixedly  and  give  full  vent  to  the  deep 
sigh  which  in  very  earnest  broke  from  my  heart.  The  eyes 
of  the  picture  seemed  to  gaze  into  mine  with  a  sorrowful  com- 
passion— almost  I  fancied  the  firm-set  lips  trembled  and  moved 
to  echo  my  sigh. 

"  Is  that  a  good  likeness?"  Ferrari  asked,  suddenly. 

I  started,  and  recollecting  myself,  answered: 

"  Excellent !  So  true  a  resemblance  that  it  arouses  a  long 
train  of  memories  in  my  mind — memories  both  bitter  and 
sweet.     Ah!  what  a  proud  fellow  he  was!" 

"  Fabio  was  also  very  proud,"  chimed  in  my  wife's  sweet 
voice.     "  Very  cold  and  haughty." 

Little  liar!  How  dared  she  utter  this  libel  on  my  memory! 
Haughty  I  might  have  been  to  others,  but  never  to  her — and 
coldness  was  no  part  of  my  nature.  Would  that  it  were! 
Would  that  I  had  been  a  pillar  of  ice,  incapable  of  thawing  in 


vendetta!  135 

the  sunlight  of  her  witching  smile !  Had  she  forgotten  what 
a  slave  I  was  to  her?  what  a  poor,  adoring,  passionate  fool  I 
became  under  the  influence  of  her  hypocritical  caresses?  I 
thought  this  to  myself,  but  I  answered  aloud : 

"Indeed!  I  am  surprised  to  hear  that.  The  Romani  hau- 
teur had  ever  to  my  mind  something  genial  and  yielding  about 
it — I  know  my  friend  was  always  most  gentle  to  his  depend- 
ents." 

The  butler  here  coughed  apologetically  behind  his  hand — 
an  old  trick  of  his,  and  one  which  signified  his  intense  desire 
to  speak. 

P'errari  laughed,  as  he  held  out  his  glass  for  more  wine. 

"Here  is  old  Giacomo,"  he  said,  nodding  to  him  lightly. 
"  He  remembers  both  the  Romanis — ask  him  his  opinion  of 
Fabio — he  worshiped  his  master." 

I  turned  to  my  servant,  and  with  a  benignant  air  addressed 
him. 

"  Your  face  is  not  familiar  to  me,  my  friend,"  I  said.  "  Per- 
haps you  were  not  here  when  I  visited  the  elder  Count 
Romani?" 

"  No,  eccellenza,"  replied  Giacomo,  rubbing  his  withered 
hands  nervously  together,  and  speaking  with  a  sort  of  sup- 
pressed eagerness,  "  I  came  into  my  lord's  service  only  a  year 
before  the  countess  died — I  mean  the  mother  of  the  young 
count." 

"Ah!  then  I  missed  making  your  acquaintance,"  I  said, 
kindly,  pitying  the  poor  old  fellow,  as  I  noticed  how  his  lips 
trembled,  and  how  altogether  broken  he  looked.  "  You  knew 
the  last  count  from  childhood,  then?" 

"I  did,  eccellenza!"  And  his  bleared  eyes  roved  over  me 
with  a  sort  of  alarmed  inquiry. 

"You  loved  him  well?"  I  said,  composedly,  observing  him 
with  embarrassment. 

"  Eccellenza,  I  never  wish  to  serve  a  better  master.  He 
was  goodness  itself — a  fine,  handsome,  generous  lad — the 
saints  have  his  soul  in  their  keeping!  Though  sometimes  I 
can  not  believe  he  is  dead — my  old  heart  almost  broke  when 
I  heard  it.  I  have  never  been  the  same  since — my  lady  will 
tell  you  so — she  is  often  displeased  with  me." 

And  he  looked  wistfully  at  her;  there  was  a  note  of  plead- 
ing in  his  hesitating  accents.  My  wife's  delicate  brows  drew 
together  in  a  frown ;   a  frown  that  I  had  once  thought  came 


136  VENDETTA! 

from  mere  petulance,  but  which  I  was  now  inclined  to  accept 
as  a  sign  of  temper. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  Giacomo,"  she  said,  in  hard  tones,  altogether 
unlike  her  usual  musical  voice.  "  You  are  growing  so  forget- 
ful that  it  is  positively  annoying.  You  know  I  have  often  to 
tell  you  the  same  thing  several  times.  One  command  ought 
to  be  sufficient  for  you." 

Giacomo  passed  his  hand  over  his  forehead  in  a  troubled 
way,  sighed,  and  was  silent.  Then,  as  if  suddenly  recollect- 
ing his  duty,  he  refilled  my  glass,  and  shrinking  aside,  re- 
sumed his  former  position  behind  my  chair. 

The  conversation  now  turned  on  desultory  and  indifferent 
matters.     I  knew  my  wife  was  an  excellent  talker,  but  on  that 
particular  evening  I  think  she   surpassed  herself.      She  had 
resolved  to  fascinate  me,  that  I  saw  at  once,  and  she  spared 
no  pains  to  succeed  in  her  ambition.     Graceful  sallies,  witty 
ban  fnots  tipped  with  the  pungent  sparkle  of  satire,  gay  stories 
well  and  briskly  told,  all  came  easily  from  her  lips,  so  that, 
though  I  knew  her  so  well,  she  almost  surprised  me  by  her 
variety  and  fluency.     Yet  this  gift  of  good  conversation  in  a 
woman  is  apt  to  mislead  the  judgment  of  those  who  listen,  for 
it  is  seldom  the  result  of  thought,  and  still  more  seldom  is  it 
a  proof  of  intellectual  capacity.     A  woman  talks  as  a  brook 
babbles;  pleasantly,  but  without  depth.     Her  information  is 
generally  of  the  most  surface  kind— she  skims  the  cream  off 
each  item  of  news,  and  serves  it  up  to  you  in  her  own  fashion, 
caring  little  whether  it  be  correct  or  the  reverse.    And  the 
more  vivaciously  she  talks,  the  more  likely  she  is  to  be  dan- 
gerously insincere  and  cold-hearted,  for  the  very  sharpness  of 
her  wit  is  apt  to  spoil  the  more  delicate  perceptions  of  her 
nature.     Show  me  a  brilliant  woman  noted  for  turning  an 
epigram  or  pointing  a  satire,  and  I  will  show  you  a  creature 
whose   life  is   a  masquerade,  full   of  vanity,  sensuality  and 
pride.     The  man  who  marries  such  a  one  must  be  content  to 
take  the  second  place  in  his  household,  and  play  the  character 
of  the  hen-pecked  husband  with  what  meekness  he  best  may. 
Answer  me,  ye  long-suffering  spouses  of  "  society  women,"  how 
much  would  you  give  to  win  back  your  freedom  and  self- 
respect?   to  be  able  to  hold  your  head  up  unabashed  before 
your  own  servants?   to  feel  that  you  can  actually  give  an 
order  without  it  being  instantly  countermanded?    Ah,    my 
poor  friends !  millions  will  not  purchase  you  such  joy ;  as  long 


vendetta!  137 

as  your  fascinating  fair  ones  are  like  Caesar's  wife,  "  above 
suspicion"  (and  they  are  generally  prudent  managers)  so  long 
must  you  dance  in  their  chains  like  the  good-natured  clumsy 
bears  that  you  are,  only  giving  vent  to  a  growl  now  and  then, 
a  growl  which  at  best  only  excites  ridicule.  My  wife  was  of 
the  true  world  worldly ;  never  had  I  seen  her  real  character  so 
plainly  as  now,  when  she  exerted  herself  to  entertain  and 
charm  me.  I  had  thought  her  spirituclle,  ethereal,  angelic! 
Never  was  there  less  of  an  angel  than  she !  While  she  talked, 
I  was  quick  to  observe  the  changes  on  Ferrari's  countenance. 
He  became  more  silent  and  sullen  as  her  brightness  and  cor- 
diality increased.  I  would  not  appear  aware  of  the  growing 
stiffness  in  his  demeanor;  I  continued  to  draw  him  into  the 
conversation,  forcing  him  to  give  opinions  on  various  subjects 
connected  with  the  art  of  which  he  was  professedly  a  fol- 
lower. He  was  very  reluctant  to  speak  at  all ;  and  when  com- 
pelled to  do  so,  his  remarks  were  curt  and  almost  snappish, 
60  much  so  that  my  wife  made  a  laughing  comment  on  his 
behavior. 

"  You  are  positively  ill-tempered,  Guido !"  she  exclaimed. 
Then  remembering  she  had  addressed  him  by  his  Christian 
name,  she  turned  to  me  and  added — "  I  always  call  him  Guido, 
en  famille ;  you  know  he  is  just  like  a  brother  to  me." 

He  looked  at  her  and  his  eyes  flashed  dangerously,  but  he 
was  mute.  Nina  was  evidently  pleased  to  see  him  in  such  a 
vexed  mood;  she  delighted  to  pique  his  pride,  and  as  he 
steadily  gazed  at  her  in  a  sort  of  reproachful  wonder,  she 
laughed  joyously.  Then  rising  from  the  table,  she  made  us 
a  coquettish  courtesy. 

"  I  will  leave  you  two  gentlemen  to  finish  your  wine  to- 
gether," she  said.  "  I  know  all  men  love  to  talk  a  little  scandal, 
and  they  must  be  alone  to  enjoy  it.  Afterward,  will  you  join 
me  in  the  veranda?     You  will  find  coffee  ready." 

I  hastened  to  open  the  door  for  her  as  she  passed  out  smil- 
ing; then,  returning  to  the  table,  I  poured  out  more  wine  for 
myself  and  Ferrari,  who  sat  gloomily  eying  his  own  reflec- 
tion in  the  broad  polished  rim  of  a  silver  fruit-dish  that  stood 
near  him.  Giacomo,  the  butler,  had  long  ago  left  the  room ; 
we  were  entirely  alone.  I  thought  over  my  plans  for  a  mo- 
ment or  two;  the  game  was  as  interesting  as  a  problem  in 
chess.  With  the  deliberation  of  a  prudent  player  I  made  ray 
next  move. 


138  vendetta! 

"  A  lovely  woman !"  I  murmured,  meditatively,  sipping  my 
wine,  "and  intelligent  also.     I  admire  your  taste,  signer!" 

He  started  violently.  "  What — what  do  you  mean?"  he  de- 
manded, half  fiercely.  I  stroked  my  mustache  and  smiled  at 
him  benevolently. 

"Ah,  young  blood!  young  blood!"  I  sighed,  shaking  my 
head ;  "  it  will  have  its  way !  My  good  sir,  why  be  ashamled  of 
your  feelings?  I  heartily  sympathize  with  you;  if  the  lady 
does  not  appreciate  the  affection  of  so  ardent  and  gallant  an 
admirer,  then  she  is  foolish  indeed!  It  is  not  every  woman 
who  has  such  a  chance  of  happiness." 

"  You  think — you  imagine  that— that — I " 

"  That  you  are  in  love  with  her.?"  I  said,  composedly.  "  Ma 
certamente !  And  why  not?  It  is  as  it  should  be.  Even  the 
late  conte  could  wish  no  fairer  mate  for  his  beautiful  widow 
than  that  she  should  become  the  wife  of  his  chosen  friend. 
Permit  me  to  drink  your  health!  Success  to  your  love !"  And 
I  drained  my  glass  as  I  finished  speaking.  Unfortunate  fool! 
He  was  completely  disarmed;  his  suspicions  of  me  melted 
away  like  mist  before  the  morning  light.  His  face  cleared — 
he  seized  my  hand  and  pressed  it  warmly. 

"Forgive  me,  conte,"  he  said,  with  remorseful  fervor;  "I 
fear  I  have  been  rude  and  unsociable.  Your  kind  words  have 
put  me  right  again.  You  will  think  me  a  jealous  madman, 
but  I  really  fancied  that  you  were  beginning  to  feel  an  attrac- 
tion for  her  yourself,  and  actually — (pardon  me,  I  entreat  of 
you!) — actually  I  was  making  up  my  mind  to — to  kill  you!" 

I  laughed  quietly.  "  Veramejite  I  How  very  amiable  of  you ! 
It  was  a  good  intention,  but  you  know  what  place  is  paved 
with  similar  designs?" 

"  Ah,  conte,  it  is  like  your  generosity  to  take  my  confession 
so  lightly ;  but  I  assure  you  for  the  last  hour  I  have  been  ab- 
solutely wretched !" 

"After  the  fashion  of  all  lovers,  I  suppose,"  I  answered — 
"  torturing  yourself  without  necessity !  Well,  well,  it  is  very 
amusing!  My  young  friend,  when  you  come  to  my  time  of 
life,  you  will  prefer  the  chink  of  gold  to  the  laughter  and 
kisses  of  women.  How  often  must  I  repeat  to  you  that  I  am 
a  man  absolutely  indifferent  to  the  tender  passion?  Believe 
it  or  not,  it  is  true." 

He  drank  off  his  wine  at  one  gulp  and  spoke  with  some 
e'xcitement. 


vendetta!  139 

"  Then  I  will  frankly  confide  in  you.  I  do  love  the  contessa. 
Love !  it  is  too  weak  a  word  to  describe  what  I  feel.  The 
touch  of  her  hand  thrills  me,  her  very  voice  seems  to  shake 
my  soul,  her  eyes  burn  through  me !  Ah !  you  cannot  know 
— you  could  not  understand  the  joy,  the  pain " 

"  Calm  yourself,"  I  said,  in  a  cold  tone,  watching  my  victim 
as  his  pent-up  emotion  betrayed  itself.  "  The  great  thing  is 
to  keep  the  head  cool  when  the  blood  bums.  You  think  she 
loves  you?" 

"Think!  Gran  Dio !  She  has — "  here  he  paused  and  his 
face  flushed  deeply — "nay!  I  have  no  right  to  say  anything 
on  that  score.     I  know  she  never  cared  for  her  husband." 

"  I  know  that  too !"  I  answered,  steadily.  "  The  most  casual 
observer  can  not  fail  to  notice  it." 

"  Well,  and  no  wonder !"  he  exclaimed,  warmly.  "  He  was 
such  an  undemonstrative  fool!  What  business  had  such  a 
fellow  as  that  to  marry  so  exquisite  a  creature!" 

My  heart  leaped  with  a  sudden  impulse  of  fury,  but  I  con- 
trolled my  voice  and  answered  calmly : 

"  Keqiiiescat  in  pace  !  He  is  dead — let  him  rest.  Whatever 
his  faults,  his  wife  of  course  was  true  to  him  while  he  lived; 
she  considered  him  worthy  of  fidelity — is  it  not  so.?" 

He  lowered  his  eyes  as  he  replied  in  an  indistinct  tone: 

"  Oh,  certainly !" 

"And  you — you  were  a  most  loyal  and  faithful  friend  to 
him,  in  spite  of  the  tempting  bright  eyes  of  his  lady?" 

Again  he  answered  huskily,  "  Why,  of  course !"  But  the 
shapely  hand  that  rested  on  the  table  so  near  to  mine 
trembled. 

"Well,  then,"  I  continued,  quietly,  "the  love  you  bear  now 
to  his  fair  widow  is,  I  imagine,  precisely  what  he  would  ap- 
prove. Being,  as  you  say,  perfectly  pure  and  blameless,  what 
can  I  wish  otherwise  than  this — may  it  meet  with  the  reward  it 
deserves  !  " 

While  I  spoke  he  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair,  and  his  eyes 
roved  to  my  father's  picture  with  restless  annoyance.  I  sup- 
pose he  saw  in  it  the  likeness  to  his  dead  friend.  After  a 
moment  or  two  of  silence  he  turned  to  me  with  a  forced 
smile. 

"  And  so  you  really  entertain  no  admiration  for  the  contessa?" 

"  Oh,  pardon  me,  I  do  entertain  a  very  strong  admiration 
for  her,  but  not  of  the  kind  you  seem  to  suspect.     If  it  will 


I40  VENDETTA\  ^ 

please  you,  I  can  guarantee  that  I  shall  never  make  love  to  the 
lady  unless " 

"  Unless  what?"  he  asked,  eagerly. 

"  Unless  she  happens  to  make  love  to  me,  in  which  case  it 
would  be  ungallant  not  to  reciprocate !" 

And  I  laughed  harshly.  He  stared  at  me  in  blank  surprise. 
"  S/ie  make  love  to  you!"  he  exclaimed.  "You  jest.  She 
would  never  do  such  a  thing." 

"  Of  course  not !"  I  answered,  rising  and  clapping  him 
heavily  on  the  shoulder.  "  Women  never  court  men — it  is 
quite  unheard  of;  a  reverse  of  the  order  of  nature!  You  are 
perfectly  safe,  my  friend ;  you  will  certainly  win  the  recom- 
pense you  so  richly  merit.  Come,  let  us  go  and  drink  coffee 
with  the  fair  one." 

And  arm-in-arm  we  sauntered  out  to  the  veranda  in  the 
most  friendly  way  possible.  Ferrari  was  completely  restored 
to  good  humor,  and  Nina,  I  thought,  was  rather  relieved  to 
see  it.  She  was  evidently  afraid  of  Ferrari — a  good  point  for 
me  to  remember.  She  smiled  a  welcome  to  us  as  we  ap- 
proached, and  began  to  pour  out  the  fragrant  coffee.  It  was 
a  glorious  evening;  the  moon  was  already  high  in  the  heav- 
ens, and  the  nightingales'  voices  echoed  softly  from  the  dis- 
tant woods.  As  I  seated  myself  in  a  low  chair  that  was  placed 
invitingly  near  that  of  my  hostess,  my  ears  were  startled  by  a 
long  melancholy  howl,  which  changed  every  now  and  then  to 
an  impatient  whine. 

"  What  is  that?"  I  asked,  though  the  question  was  needless, 
for  I  knew  the  sound. 

"  Oh,  it  is  that  tiresome  dog  Wyvis,"  answered  Nina,  in  a 
vexed  tone.  "  He  belonged  to  Fabio.  He  makes  the  evening 
quite  miserable  with  his  moaning." 

"  Where  is  he?" 

"  Well,  after  my  husband's  death  he  became  so  troublesome, 
roaming  all  over  the  house  and  wailing;  and  then  he  would 
insist  on  sleeping  in  Stella's  room  close  to  her  bedside.  He 
really  worried  me  both  day  and  night,  so  I  was  compelled  to 
chain  him  up." 

Poor  Wyvis!     He  was  sorely  punished  for  his  fidelity. 

"  I  am  very  fond  of  dogs,"  I  said,  slowly,  "  and  they  gener- 
ally take  to  me  with  extraordinary  devotion.  May  I  see  this 
one. of  yours?" 

"  Oh,  certainly!     Guido,  will  you  go  and  unfasten  him?" 


vendetta!  141 

Guido  did  not  move;  he  leaned  easily  back  in  his  chair,  sip- 
ping his  coffee. 

"Many  thanks,"  he  answered,  with  a  half  laugh;  "perhaps 
you  forget  that  last  time  I  did  so  he  nearly  tore  me  to  pieces. 
If  you  do  not  object,  I  would  rather  Giacomo  undertook  the 
task." 

"  After  such  an  account  of  the  animal's  conduct,  perhaps  the 
conte  will  not  care  to  see  him.  It  is  true  enough,"  turning  to 
me  as  she  spoke,  "  Wyvis  has  taken  a  great  dislike  to  Signor 
Ferrari — and  yet  he  is  a  good-natured  dog,  and  plays  with  my 
little  girl  all  day  if  she  goes  to  him.  Do  you  feel  inclined  to 
see  him?  Yes?"  And,  as  I  bowed  in  the  affirmative,  she  rang 
a  little  bell  twice,  and  the  butler  appeared. 

"  Giacomo,"  she  continued,  "  loose  Wyvis  and  send  him 
here." 

Giacomo  gave  me  another  of  those  timid  questioning 
glances,  and  departed  to  execute  his  order.  In  another  five 
minutes,  the  howling  having  suddenly  ceased,  a  long,  lithe, 
black,  shadowy  creature  came  leaping  wildly  across  the 
moonlighted  lawn — Wyvis  was  racing  at  full  speed.  He  paid 
no  heed  to  his  mistress  or  Ferrari ;  he  rushed  straight  to  me 
with  a  yelp  of  joy.  His  huge  tail  wagged  incessantly,  he 
panted  thirstily  with  excitement,  he  frisked  round  and  round 
my  chair,  he  abased  himself  and  kissed  my  feet  and  hands,  he 
rubbed  his  stately  head  fondly  against  my  knee.  His  frantic 
demonstrations  of  delight  were  watched  by  my  wife  and  Fer- 
rari with  utter  astonishment.  I  observed  their  surprise,  and 
said  lightly : 

"  I  told  you  how  it  would  be !  It  is  nothing  remarkable,  I 
(  assure  you.     All  dogs  treat  me  in  the  same  way." 

And  I  laid  my  hand  on  the  animal's  neck  with  a  commanding 
pressure ;  he  lay  down  at  once,  only  now  and  then  raising  his 
large  wistful  brown  eyes  to  my  face  as  though  he  wondered 
what  had  changed  it  so  greatly.  But  no  disguise  could  de- 
ceive his  intelligence — the  faithful  creature  knew  his  master. 
Meantime  I  thought  Nina  looked  pale;  certainly  the  little 
jeweled  white  hand  nearest  to  me  shook  slightly. 

"  Are  you  afraid  of  this  noble  animal,  madame?"  I  asked, 
watching  her  closely.     She  laughed,  a  little  forcedly. 

"  Oh,  no !  But  Wyvis  is  usually  so  shy  with  strangers,  and 
I  never  saw  him  greet  any  one  so  rapturously  except  my  late 
husband.     It  is  really  very  odd !" 


142  vendetta! 

Ferrari,  by  his  looks,  agreed  with  her,  and  appeared  to  be 
uneasily  considering  the  circumstance. 

"  Strange  to  say,"  he  remarked,  "  Wyvis  has  for  once  forgot- 
ten me.     He  never  fails  to  give  me  a  passing  snarl." 

Hearing  his  voice,  the  dog  did  indeed  commence  growling 
discontentedly;  but  a  touch  from  me  silenced  him.  The 
animal's  declared  enmity  toward  Ferrari  surprised  me — it  was 
quite  a  new  thing,  as  before  my  burial  his  behavior  to  him 
had  been  perfectly  friendly. 

"I  have  had  a  great  deal  to  do  with  dogs  in  my  time,"  I 
said,  speaking  in  a  deliberately  composed  voice.  "  I  have 
found  their  instinct  marvelous ;  they  generally  seem  to  rec- 
ognize at  once  the  persons  who  are  fond  of  their  society. 
This  Wyvis  of  yours,  contessa,  has  no  doubt  discovered  that  I 
have  had  many  friends  among  his  brethren,  so  that  there  is 
nothing  strange  in  his  making  so  much  of  me." 

The  air  of  studied  indifference  with  which  I  spoke,  and  the 
fact  of  my  taking  the  exuberant  delight  of  Wyvis  as  a  matter 
of  course,  gradually  reassured  the  plainly  disturbed  feelings 
of  my  two  betrayers,  for  after  a  little  pause  the  incident  was 
passed  over,  and  our  conversation  went  on  with  pleasant  and 
satisfactory  smoothness.  Before  my  departure  that  evening, 
however,  I  offered  to  chain  up  the  dog — "  as,  if  I  do  this,"  I 
added,  "  I  guarantee  he  will  not  disturb  your  night's  rest  by 
his  howling." 

This  suggestion  met  with  approval,  and  Ferrari  walked  with 
me  to  show  me  where  the  kennel  stood.  I  chained  Wyvis, 
and  stroked  him  tenderly ;  he  appeared  to  understand,  and  he 
accepted  his  fate  with  perfect  resignation,  lying  down  upon 
his  bed  of  straw  without  a  sign  of  opposition,  save  for  one 
imploring  look  out  of  his  intelligent  eyes  as  I  turned  away  and 
left  him. 

On  making  my  adieus  to  Nina,  I  firmly  refused  Ferrari's 
offered  companionship  in  the  walk  back  to  my  hotel. 

"  I  am  fond  of  a  solitary  moonlight  stroll,"  I  said.  "  Permit 
me  to  have  my  own  way  in  the  matter." 

After  some  friendly  argument  they  yielded  to  my  wishes. 
I  bade  them  both  a  civil  "  good-night,"  bending  low  over  my 
wife's  hand  and  kissing  it,  coldly  enough,  God  knows,  and  yet 
the  action  was  sufficient  to  make  her  flush  and  sparkle  with 
pleasure.  Then  I  left  them,  Ferrari  himself  escorting  me  to 
the  villa  gates,  and  watching  me  pass  out  on  the  open  road. 


vendetta!  143 

As  long  as  he  stood  there,  I  walked  with  a  slow  and  medita- 
tive pace  toward  the  city,  but  the  instant  I  heard  the  gate 
clang  heavily  as  it  closed,  I  hurried  back  with  a  cautious  and 
noiseless  step.  Avoiding  the  great  entrance,  I  slipped  round 
to  the  western  side  of  the  grounds,  where  there  was  a  close 
thicket  of  laurel  that  extended  almost  up  to  the  veranda  I  had 
just  left.  Entering  this,  and  bending  the  boughs  softly  aside 
as  I  pushed  my  way  through,  I  gradually  reached  a  posi- 
tion whence  I  could  see  the  veranda  plainly,  and  also  hear 
anything  that  passed.  Guido  was  sitting  on  the  low  chair  I 
had  just  vacated,  leaning  his  head  back  against  my  wife's 
breast;  he  had  reached  up  one  arm  so  that  it  encircled  her 
neck,  and  drew  her  head  down  toward  his.  In  this  half  em- 
brace they  rested  absolutely  silent  for  some  moments.  Sud- 
denly Ferrari  spoke : 

"You  are  very  cruel,  Nina!  You  actually  made  me  think 
you  admired  that  rich  old  conte." 

She  laughed.  "  So  I  do !  He  would  be  really  handsome  if 
he  did  not  wear  those  ugly  spectacles.  And  his  jewels  are 
lovely.     I  wish  he  would  give  me  some  more!" 

"  And  supposing  he  were  to  do  so,  would  you  care  for  him, 
Nina?"  he  demanded,  jealously.  "  Surely  not.  Besides,  you 
have  no  idea  how  conceited  he  is.  He  says  he  will  never 
make  love  to  a  woman  unless  she  first  makes  love  to  him ; 
what  do  you  think  of  that?" 

She  laughed  again,  more  merrily  than  before. 

"  Think !  Why,  that  he  is  very  original — charmingly  so ! 
Are  you  coming  in,  Guido?" 

He  rose,  and  standing  erect,  almost  lifted  her  from  her  chair 
I  and  folded  her  in  his  arms. 

"Yes,  I  am  coming  in,"  he  answered;  "and  I  will  have  a 
hundred  kisses  for  every  look  and  smile  you  bestowed  on  the 
conte!  You  little  coquette!  You  would  flirt  with  your 
grandfather !" 

She  rested  against  him  with  apparent  tenderness,  one  hand 
playing  with  the  flower  in  his  button-hole,  and  then  she  said, 
with  a  silght  accent  of  fear  in  her  voice — 

"  Tell  me,  Guido,  do  you  not  think  he  is  a  little  like — like 
Fabio  ?  Is  there  not  a  something  in  his  manner  that  seems 
familiar?" 

"I  confess  I  have  fancied  so  once  or  twice,"  he  returned, 
musingly;  "  there  is  rather  a  disagreeable  resemblance.     But 


144  VENDETTA ! 

what  of  that?  Many  men  are  almost  counterparts  of  each 
other.  But  I  tell  you  what  I  think.  I  am  almost  positive  he 
is  some  long-lost  relation  of  the  family — Fabio's  uncle  for  all 
we  know,  who  does  not  wish  to  declare  his  actual  relationship. 
He  is  a  good  old  fellow  enough,  I  believe,  and  is  certainly  rich 
as  Croesus ;  he  will  be  a  valuable  friend  to  us  both.  Come, 
sposina  fniaj  it  is  time  to  go  to  rest." 

And  they  disappeared  within  the  house,  and  shut  the  win- 
dows after  them.  I  immediately  left  my  hiding-place,  and 
resumed  my  way  toward  Naples.  I  was  satisfied  they  had  no 
suspicion  of  the  truth.  After  all,  it  was  absurd  of  me  to  fancy 
they  might  have,  for  people  in  general  do  not  imagine  it  pos- 
sible for  a  buried  man  to  come  back  to  life  again.  The  game 
was  in  my  own  hands,  and  I  now  resolved  to  play  it  out  with 
as  little  delay  as  possible. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Time  flew  swiftly  on — a  month,  six  weeks,  passed,  and  dur- 
ing that  short  space  I  had  established  myself  in  Naples  as  a 
great  personage — great,  because  of  my  wealth  and  the  style 
in  which  I  lived.  No  one  in  all  the  numerous  families  of  dis- 
tinction that  eagerly  sought  my  acquaintance  cared  whether  I 
had  intellect  or  intrinsic  personal  worth ;  it  sufficed  to  them 
that  I  kept  a  carriage  and  pair,  an  elegant  and  costly  equipage, 
softly  lined  with  satin  and  drawn  by  two  Arabian  mares  as 
black  as  polished  ebony.  The  value  of  my  friendship  was 
measured  by  the  luxuriousness  of  my  box  at  the  opera,  and 
by  the  dainty  fittings  of  my  yacht,  a  swift  trim  vessel  fur- 
nished with  every  luxury,  and  having  on  board  a  band  of 
stringed  instruments  which  discoursed  sweet  music  when  the 
moon  emptied  her  horn  of  silver  radiance  on  the  rippling 
water.  In  a  little  while  I  knew  everybody  who  was  worth 
knowing  in  Naples;  everywhere  my  name  was  talked  of,  my 
doings  were  chronicled  in  the  fashionable  newspapers;  stories 
of  my  lavish  generosity  were  repeated  from  mouth  to  mouth, 
and  the  most  highly  colored  reports  of  my  immense  revenues 
were  whispered  with  a  kind  of  breathless  awe  at  every  cafd 
and  street  comer.  Tradesmen  waylaid  my  reticent  valet, 
Vincenzo,  and  gave  him  douceurs  >n  the  hope  he  would  obtain 


vendetta!  145 

my  custom  for  them — "  tips"  which  he  pocketed  in  his  usual 
reserved  and  discreet  manner,  but  which  he  was  always  hon- 
est enough  to  tell  me  of  afterward.  He  would  most  faithfully 
give  me  the  name  and  address  of  this  or  that  particular  tempter 
of  his  fidelity,  always  adding — "  As  to  whether  the  rascal  sells 
good  things  or  bad,  our  Lady  only  knows,  but  truly  he  gave 
me  thirty  francs  to  secure  your  excellency's  good-will. 
Though  for  all  that  I  would  not  recommend  him  if  your  excel-, 
lency  knows  of  an  honester  man !" 

Among  other  distinctions  which  my  wealth  forced  upon  me 
were  the  lavish  attentions  of  match-making  mothers.  The 
black  spectacles  which  I  always  wore  were  not  repulsive  to 
these  diplomatic  dames — on  the  contrary,  some  of  them  as- 
sured me  they  were  most  becoming,  so  anxious  were  they  to 
secure  me  as  a  son-in-law.  Fair  girls  in  their  teens,  blushing 
and  ingenuous,  were  artfully  introduced  to  me — or,  I  should 
say,  thrust  forward  like  slaves  in  a  market  for  my  inspection 
— though,  to  do  them  justice,  they  were  remarkably  shrewd 
and  sharp-witted  for  their  tender  years.  Young  as  they  were, 
they  were  keenly  alive  to  the  importance  of  making  a  good 
match — and  no  doubt  the  pretty  innocents  laid  many  dainty 
schemes  in  their  own  minds  for  liberty  and  enjoyment  when 
one  or  the  other  of  them  should  become  the  Countess  Oliva 
and  fool  the  old  black-spectacled  husband  to  her  heart's  con- 
tent. Needless  to  say  their  plans  were  not  destined  to  be  ful- 
filled, though  I  rather  enjoyed  studying  the  many  devices  they 
employed  to  fascinate  me.  What  pretty  ogling  glances  I  re- 
ceived!— what  whispered  admiration  of  my  "  beautiful  white 
hair!  so  distingui !" — what  tricks  of  manner,  alternating  from 
grave  to  gay,  from  rippling  mirth  to  witching  languor!  Many 
an  evening  I  sat  at  ease  on  board  my  yacht,  watching  with  a 
satirical  inward  amusement  one,  perhaps,  two  or  three,  of 
these  fair  schemers  ransacking  their  youthful  brains  for  new 
methods  to  entrap  the  old  millionaire,  as  they  thought  me, 
into  the  matrimonial  net.  I  used  to  see  their  eyes — sparkling 
with  light  in  the  sunshine — grow  liquid  and  dreamy  in  the 
mellow  radiance  of  the  October  moon,  and  turn  upon  me  with 
a  vague  wistfulness  most  lovely  to  behold,  and — most  admi- 
rably feigned !  I  could  lay  my  hand  on  a  bare  round  white  arm 
and  not  be  repulsed — I  could  hold  little  clinging  fingers  in  my 
own  as  long  as  I  liked  without  giving  offence — such  are  some 
of  the  privileges  of  wealth  I 


146  vendetta! 

In  all  the  parties  of  pleasure  I  formed,  and  these  were  many 
— my  wife  and  Ferrari  were  included  as  a  matter  of  course. 
At  first  Nina  demurred,  with  some  plaintive  excuse  concern- 
ing her  "  recent  terrible  bereavement,"  but  I  easily  persuaded 
her  out  of  this.  I  even  told  some  ladies  I  knew  to  visit  her 
and  add  their  entreaties  to  mine,  as  I  said,  with  the  benignant 
air  of  an  elderly  man,  that  it  was  not  good  for  one  so  young 
to  waste  her  time  and  injure  her  health  by  useless  grieving. 
She  saw  the  force  of  this,  I  must  admit,  with  admirable  readi- 
ness, and  speedily  yielded  to  the  united  invitations  she  re- 
ceived, though  always  with  a  well-acted  reluctance,  and  saying 
that  she  did  so  merely  "  because  the  Count  Oliva  was  such  an 
old  friend  of  the  family  and  knew  my  poor  dear  husband  as  a 
child." 

On  Ferrari  I  heaped  all  manner  of  benefits.  Certain  debts 
of  his  contracted  at  play  I  paid  privately  to  surprise  him — his 
gratitude  was  extreme.  I  humored  him  in  many  of  his  small 
extravagances — I  played  with  his  follies  as  an  angler  plays 
the  fish  at  the  end  of  his  line,  and  I  succeeded  in  winning  his 
confidence.  Not  that  I  ever  could  surprise  him  into  a  confes- 
sion of  his  guilty  amour — but  he  kept  me  well  informed  as  to 
what  he  was  pleased  to  call  "  the  progress  of  his  attachment," 
and  supplied  me  with  many  small  details  which,  while  they 
fired  my  blood  and  brain  to  wrath,  steadied  me  more  surely  in 
my  plan  of  vengeance.  Little  did  he  dream  in  whom  he  was 
trusting! — little  did  he  know  into  whose  hands  he  was  playing! 
Sometimes  a  kind  of  awful  astonishment  would  come  over  me 
as  I  listened  to  his  trivial  talk,  and  heard  him  make  plans  for 
a  future  that  was  never  to  be.  He  seemed  so  certain  of  his 
^  happiness — so  absolutely  sure  that  nothing  could  or  would 
intervene  to  mar  it.  Traitor  as  he  was,  he  was  unable  to  fore- 
see punishment — materialist  to  the  heart's  core,  he  had  no 
knowledge  of  the  divine  law  of  compensation.  Now  and  then 
a  dangerous  impulse  stirred  me — a  desire  to  say  to  him  point- 
blank  : 

"Yon  are  a  condemned  criminal — a  doomed  man  on  the 
brink  of  the  grave.  Leave  this  light  converse  and  frivolous 
jesting — and,  while  there  is  time,  prepare  for  death !" 

But  I  bit  my  lips  and  kept  stern  silence.  Often,  too,  I  felt 
disposed  to  seize  him  by  the  throat,  and,  declaring  my  iden- 
tity, accuse  him  of  his  treachery  to  his  face,  but  I  always 
remembered  and  controlled  myself.     One  point  in  his  char- 


vendetta!  147 

acter  I  knew  well — I  had  known  it  of  old — this  was  his 
excessive  love  of  good  wine.  I  aided  and  abetted  him  in  this 
weakness,  and  whenever  he  visited  me  I  took  care  that  he 
should  have  his  choice  of  the  finest  vintages.  Often,  after  a 
convivial  evening  spent  in  my  apartments  with  a  few  other 
young  men  of  his  class  and  calibre,  he  reeled  out  of  my  pres- 
ence, his  deeply  flushed  face  and  thick  voice  bearing  plain 
testimony  as  to  his  condition.  On  these  occasions  I  used  to 
consider  with  a  sort  of  fierce  humor  how  Nina  would  receive 
him — for,  though  she  saw  no  offence  in  the  one  kind  of  vice 
she  herself  practiced,  she  had  a  particular  horror  of  vulgarity 
in  any  form,  and  drunkenness  was  one  of  those  low  failings 
she  specially  abhorred. 

"  Go  to  your  lady-love,  7non  beau  Silenus !"  I  would  think,  as 
I  watched  him  leaving  my  hotel  with  a  couple  of  his  boon 
companions,  staggering  and  laughing  loudly  as  he  went,  or 
singing  the  last  questionable  street-song  of  the  Neapolitan 
baspeuple.  "  You  are  in  a  would-be  riotous  and  savage  mood — 
her  finer  animal  instincts  will  revolt  from  you,  as  a  lithe 
gazelle  would  fly  from  the  hideous  gambols  of  a  rhinoceros. 
She  is  already  afraid  of  you — in  a  little  while  she  will  look 
upon  you  with  loathing  and  disgust — tant  pis  pour  vous,  tant 
mieux  pour  moi!" 

I  had  of  course  attained  the  position  of  ami  intimi  at  the 
Villa  Romani.  I  was  welcome  there  at  any  hour — I  could  ex- 
amine and  read  my  own  books  in  my  own  library  at  leisure 
(what  a  privilege  was  mine) ;  I  could  saunter  freely  through 
the  beautiful  gardens  accompanied  by  Wyvis,  who  attended 
me  as  a  matter  of  course ;  in  short,  the  house  was  almost  at 
my  disposal,  though  I  never  passed  a  night  under  its  roof.  I 
carefully  kept  up  my  character  as  a  prematurely  elderly  man, 
slightly  invalided  by  a  long  and  arduous  career  in  far-off  for- 
eign lands,  and  I  was  particularly  prudent  in  my  behavior 
toward  my  wife  before  Ferrari.  Never  did  I  permit  the  least 
word  or  action  on  my  part  that  could  arouse  his  jealousy  or 
suspicion.  I  treated  her  with  a  sort  of  parental  kindness  and 
reserve,  but  she — trust  a  woman  for  intrigue! — she  was  quick 
to  perceive  my  reasons  for  so  doing.  Directly  Ferrari's  back 
was  turned  she  would  look  at  me  with  a  glance  of  coquettish 
intelligence,  and  smile — a  little  mocking,  half-petulant  smile 
— or  she  would  utter  some  disparaging  remark  about  him, 
combining  with  it  a  covert  compliment  to  me.     It  was  not  for 


148  vendetta! 

me  to  betray  her  secrets — I  saw  no  occasion  to  tell  Ferrari  that 
nearly  every  morning  she  sent  her  maid  to  my  hotel  with  fruit 
and  flowers  and  inquiries  after  my  health — nor  was  my  valet 
Vincenzo  the  man  to  say  that  he  carried  gifts  and  similar  mes- 
sages from  me  to  her.  But  at  the  commencement  of  Novem- 
ber things  were  so  far  advanced  that  I  was  in  the  unusual 
position  of  being  secretly  courted  by  my  own  wife ! — I  recip- 
rocating her  attentions  with  equal  secrecy !  The  fact  of  my 
being  often  in  the  company  of  other  ladies  piqued  her  vanity 
— she  knew  that  I  was  considered  a  desirable /dir// — and — she 
resolved  to  win  me.  In  this  case  I  also  resolved — to  be  won! 
A  grim  courtship  truly — between  a  dead  man  and  his  own 
widow !  Ferrari  never  suspected  what  was  going  on ;  he  had 
spoken  of  me  as  "  that  poor  fool  Fabio,  he  was  too  easily  duped;" 
yet  never  was  there  one  more  "  easily  duped"  than  himself,  or 
to  whom  the  epithet  "  poor  fool"  more  thoroughly  applied.  As 
I  said  before  he  was  sure — too  sure  of  his  own  good  fortune. 
I  wished  to  excite  this  distrust  and  enmity  sometimes,  but  this 
I  found  I  could  not  do.  He  trusted  me — yes!  as  much  as  in 
the  old  days  I  had  trusted  him.  Therefore,  the  catastrophe  for 
him  must  be  sudden  as  well  as  fatal — perhaps,  after  all,  it  was 
better  so. 

During  my  frequent  visits  to  the  villa  I  saw  much  of  my 
child  Stella.  She  became  passionately  attached  to  me — poor 
little  thing! — her  love  was  a  mere  natural  instinct  had  she 
but  known  it.  Often,  too,  her  nurse,  Assunta,  would  bring 
her  to  my  hotel  to  pass  an  hour  or  so  with  me.  This  was  a 
great  treat  to  her,  and  her  delight  reached  its  climax  when  I 
took  her  on  my  knee  and  told  her  a  fairy  story — her  favorite 
one  being  that  of  a  good  little  girl  whose  papa  suddenly  went 
away,  and  how  the  little  girl  grieved  for  him  till  at  last  some 
kind  fairies  helped  her  to  find  him  again.  I  was  at  first  some- 
what afraid  of  old  Assunta — she  had  been  my  nurse — was  it 
possible  that  she  would  not  recognize  me?  The  first  time  I 
met  her  in  my  new  character  I  almost  held  my  breath  in  a  sort 
of  suspense — but  the  good  old  woman  was  nearly  blind,  and  I 
think  she  could  scarce  make  out  my  lineaments.  She  was  of 
an  entirely  different  nature  to  Giacomo  the  butler — she 
thoroughly  believed  her  master  to  be  dead,  as  indeed  she  had 
every  reason  to  do,  but,  strange  to  say,  Giacomo  did  not.  The 
old  man  had  a  fanatical  notion  that  his  "  young  lord"  could  not 
have  died  so  suddenly,  and  he  grew  so  obstinate  on  the  point 


•  vendetta!  149 

that  iny  wife  declared  he  must  be  going  crazy.  Assunta,  on 
the  other  hand,  would  talk  volubly  of  ray  death  and  tell  me 
with  assured  earnestness : 

"  It  was  to  be  expected,  eccellenza — he  was  too  good  for  us 
and  the  saints  took  him.  Of  course  our  Lady  wanted  him — 
she  always  picks  out  the  best  among  us.  The  poor  Giacorao 
will  not  listen  tome;  he  grows  weak  and  childish,  and  he 
loved  the  master  too  well — better,"  and  here  her  voice  would 
deepen  into  reproachful  solemnity,  "  yes,  better  actually  than 
St.  Joseph  himself!  And  of  course  one  is  punished  for  such  a 
thing.  I  always  knew  my  master  would  die  young — he  was 
too  gentle  as  a  baby,  and  too  kind-hearted  as  a  man  to  stay 
here  long." 

And  she  would  shake  her  gray  head  and  feel  for  the  beads 
of  her  rosary,  and  mutter  many  an  Ave  for  the  repose  of  my 
soul.  Much  as  I  wished  it,  I  could  never  get  her  to  talk  about 
her  mistress — it  was  the  one  subject  on  which  she  was  invari- 
ably silent.  On  one  occasion  when  I  spoke  with  apparent 
enthusiasm  of  the  beauty  and  accomplishments  of  the  young 
countess,  she  glanced  at  me  with  sudden  and  earnest  scrutiny 
— sighed — but  said  nothing.  I  was  glad  to  see  how  thoroughly 
devoted  she  was  to  Stella,  and  the  child  returned  her  affection 
with  interest — though  as  the  November  days  came  on  apace, 
my  little  one  looked  far  from  strong.  She  paled  and  grew 
thin,  her  eyes  looked  preternaturally  large  and  solemn,  and 
she  was  very  easily  wearied.  I  called  Assunta's  attention  to 
these  signs  of  ill-health ;  she  replied  that  she  had  spoken  to 
the  countess,  but  that  "  madama"  had  taken  no  notice  of  the 
child's  weakly  condition.  Afterward  I  mentioned  the  matter 
myself  to  Nina,  who  merely  smiled  gratefully  up  in  my  face 
and  answered: 

"  Really,  my  dear  conte,  you  are  too  good!  There  is  noth- 
ing the  matter  with  Stella — her  health  is  excellent ;  she  eats 
too  many  bonbons  perhaps,  and  is  growing  rather  fast,  that  is 
all.  How  kind  you  are  to  think  of  her!  But,  I  assure  you, 
she  is  quite  well." 

I  did  not  feel  so  sure  of  this,  yet  I  was  obliged  to  conceal 
my  anxiety,  as  overmuch  concern  about  the  child  would  not 
have  been  in  keeping  with  my  assumed  character. 

It  was  a  little  past  the  middle  of  November  when  a  circum- 
stance occurred  that  gave  impetus  to  my  plans,  and  hurried 
them  to  full  fruition.     The  days  were  growing  chilly  and  sad 


I50  vendetta! 

even  in  Naples — yachting  excursions  were  over,  and  I  was  be- 
ginning to  organize  a  few  dinners  and  balls  for  the  approach- 
ing winter  season,  when  one  afternoon  Ferrari  entered  my  room 
unannounced  and  threw  himself  into  the  nearest  chair  with  an 
impatient  exclamation  and  a  vexed  expression  of  countenance. 

"  What  is  the  matter?"  I  asked,  carelessly,  as  I  caught  a 
furtive  glance  of  his  eyes.  "Anything  financial?  Pray  draw 
upon  me !    I  will  be  a  most  accommodating  banker!" 

He  smiled  uneasily  though  gratefully. 

"  Thanks,  conte — but  it  is  nothing  of  that  sort — it  is — gran 
Dio  !  what  an  unlucky  wretch  I  am !" 

"I  hope,"  and  here  I  put  on  an  expression  of  the  deepest 
anxiety,  "  I  hope  the  pretty  contessa  has  not  played  you  false? 
She  has  refused  to  marry  you?" 

He  laughed  with  a  disdainful  triumph  in  his  laughter. 

"  Oh,  as  far  as  that  goes  there  is  no  danger !  She  dares  not 
play  me  false." 

"  Dares  not !  That  is  rather  a  strong  expression,  my  friend !" 
And  I  stroked  my  beard  and  looked  at  him  steadily.  He 
himself  seemed  to  think  he  had  spoken  too  openly  and  hastily 
— for  he  reddened  as  he  said  with  a  little  embarrassment: 

"  Well,  I  did  not  mean  that  exactly — of  course  she  is  per- 
fectly free  to  do  as  she  likes — but  she  can  not,  I  think,  refuse 
me  after  showing  me  so  much  encouragement." 

I  waved  my  hand  with  an  airy  gesture  of  amicable  agree- 
ment. 

"Certainly  not,"  I  said,  "unless  she  be  an  arrant  coquette 
and  therefore  a  worthless  woman;  and  you,  who  know  so  well 
her  intrinsic  goodness  and  purity,  have  no  reason  to  fear. 
But,  if  not  love  or  money,  what  is  it  that  troubles  you?  It 
must  be  serious,  to  judge  from  your  face." 

He  played  absently  with  a  ring  I  had  given  him,  turning  it 
round  and  round  upon  his  finger  many  times  before  replying. 

"  Well,  the  fact  is,"  he  said  at  last,  "  I  am  compelled  to  go 
away — to  leave  Naples  for  a  time." 

My  heart  gave  an  expectant  throb  of  satisfaction.  Going 
away ! — leaving  Naples ! — turning  away  from  the  field  of  battle 
and  allowing  me  to  gain  the  victory !  Fortune  surely  favored 
me.     But  I  answered  with  feigned  concern : 

"  Going  away !  Surely  you  can  not  mean  it.  Why? — what 
for?  and  where?" 

"  An  uncle  of  mine  is  dying  in  Rome,"  he  answered,  crossly. 


/END ETTA !  I51 

"  He  has  made  me  his  heir,  and  I  am  bound  for  the  sake  of 
decency  to  attend  his  last  moments.  Rather  protracted  last 
moments  they  threaten  to  be  too,  but  the  lawyers  say  I  had 
better  be  present,  as  the  old  man  may  take  it  into  his  head  to 
disinherit  me  at  the  final  gasp.  I  suppose  I  shall  not  be 
absent  long — a  fortnight  at  most — and  in  the  meanwhile " 

Here  he  hesitated  and  looked  at  me  anxiously. 

"  Continue,  caro  mio,  continue  !"  I  said  with  some  impatience. 
"  If  I  can  do  anything  in  your  absence,  you  have  only  to  com- 
mand me." 

He  rose  from  his  chair,  and  approaching  the  window  where 
I  sat  in  a  half-reclining  position,  he  drew  a  small  chair  opposite 
mine,  and  sitting  down,  laid  one  hand  confidingly  on  my 
wrist. 

"  You  can  do  much !"  he  replied,  earnestly,  "  and  I  feel  that 
I  can  thoroughly  depend  upon  you.  Watch  over  her!  She 
will  have  no  other  protector,  and  she  is  so  beautiful  and  care- 
less !  You  can  guard  her — your  age,  your  rank  and  position, 
the  fact  of  your  being  an  old  friend  of  the  family — all  these 
things  warrant  your  censorship  and  vigilance  over  her,  and 
you  can  prevent  any  other  man  from  intruding  himself  upon 
her  notice " 

"If  he  does,"  I  exclaimed,  starting  up  from  my  seat  with  a 
mock  tragic  air,  "  /  will  not  rest  till  his  body  serves  my  sword  as 
a  sheath  !  " 

And  I  laughed  loudly,  clapping  him  on  the  shoulder  as  I 
spoke.  The  words  were  the  very  same  he  had  himself  uttered 
when  I  had  witnessed  his  interview  with  my  wife  in  the 
avenue.  He  seemed  to  find  something  familiar  in  the  phrase, 
for  he  looked  confused  and  puzzled.  Seeing  this,  I  hastened 
to  turn  the  current  of  his  reflections.  Stopping  abruptly  in 
my  mirth,  I  assumed  a  serious  gravity  of  demeanor,  and  said : 

"Nay,  nay!  I  see  the  subject  is  too  sacred  to  be  jested 
with — pardon  my  levity!  I  assure  you,  my  good  Ferrari,  I 
will  watch  over  the  lady  with  the  jealous  scrutiny  of  a  brother 
— an  elderly  brother  too,  and  therefore  one  more  likely  to  be 
a  model  of  propriety.  Though  I  frankly  admit  it  is  a  task  I 
am  not  specially  fitted  for,  and  one  that  is  rather  distasteful 
to  me,  Btill  I  would  do  much  to  please  you,  and  enable  you 
to  leave  Naples  with  an  easy  mind.  I  promise  you" — here  I 
took  his  hand  and  shook  it  warmly — "  that  I  will  be  worthy  of 
your  trust  and  truQ  to  it,  with  exactly  the  same  fine  loyally 


152  vendetta! 

and  fidelity  you  yourself  so  nobly  showed  to  your  dead  friend 
Fabio !     History  can  not  furnish  me  with  a  better  example !" 

He  started  as  if  he  had  been  stung,  and  every  drop  of  blood 
receded  from  his  face,  leaving  it  almost  livid.  He  turned  his 
eyes  in  a  kind  of  wondering  doubt  upon  me,  but  I  counter- 
feited an  air  of  such  good  faith  and  frankness  that  he  checked 
some  hasty  utterance  that  rose  to  his  lips,  and  mastering 
himself  by  a  strong  effort,  said,  briefly: 

"  I  thank  you !     I  know  I  can  rely  upon  your  honor." 

"  You  can !"  I  answered,  decisively — "  as  positively  as  you 
rely  upon  your  own !"  Again  he  winced,  as  though  whipped 
smartly  by  an  invisible  lash.  Releasing  his  hand,  I  asked,  in 
a  tone  of  affected  regret: 

"  And  when  must  you  leave  us,  carino  ?  " 

"Most  unhappily,  at  once,"  he  answered.  "I  start  by  the 
early  train  to-morrow  morning." 

"  Well,  I  am  glad  I  knew  of  this  in  time,"  I  said,  glancing  at 
my  writing-table,  which  was  strewn  with  unsent  invitation 
cards,  and  estimates  from  decorators  and  ball  furnishers.  "  I 
shall  not  think  of  starting  any  more  gayeties  till  you  return." 

He  looked  gratefully  at  me.  "  Really?  It  is  very  kind  of 
you,  but  I  should  be  sorry  to  interfere  with  any  of  your 
plans " 

"  Say  no  more  about  it,  amico,"  I  interrupted  him  lightly. 
"  Everything  can  wait  till  you  come  back.  Besides,  I  am  sure 
you  will  prefer  to  think  of  madama  as  living  in  some  sort  of 
seclusion  during  your  enforced  absence " 

"  I  should  not  like  her  to  be  dull !"  he  eagerly  exclaimed. 

"  Oh,  no !"  I  said,  with  a  slight  smile  at  his  folly,  as  if  she — 
Nina ! — would  permit  herself  to  be  dull !  "  I  will  take  care  of 
that.  Little  distractions,  such  as  a  drive  now  and  then,  or  a 
very  quiet,  select  musical  evening!  I  understand — leave  it 
all  to  me !  But  the  dances,  dinners,  and  other  diversions  shall 
wait  till  your  return." 

A  delighted  look  flashed  into  his  eyes.  He  was  greatly 
flattered  and  pleased. 

"  You  are  uncommonly  good  to  me,  conte !"  he  said,  ear- 
nestly.    "  I  can  never  thank  you  sufficiently." 

"  I  shall  demand  a  proof  of  your  gratitude  some  day,"  I  an- 
swered. "  And  now,  had  you  not  better  be  packing  your  port- 
manteau? To-morrow  will  soon  be  here.  I  will  come  and  see 
you  off  in  the  morning." 


vendetta!  153" 

Receiving  this  assurance  as  another  testimony  of  my  friend- 
ship, he  left  me.  I  saw  him  no  more  that  day;  it  was  easy  to 
g^ess  where  he  was !  With  my  wife,  of  course ! — no  doubt 
binding  her,  by  all  the  most  sacred  vows  he  could  think  of  or 
invent,  to  be  true  to  him — as  true  as  she  had  been  false  to  me. 
In  fancy  I  could  see  him  clasping  her  in  his  arms,  and  kissing 
her  many  times  in  his  passionate  fervor,  imploring  her  to 
think  of  him  faithfully,  night  and  day,  till  he  should  again 
return  to  the  joy  of  her  caresses!  I  smiled  coldly  as  this 
glowing  picture  came  before  my  imagination.  Ay,  Guido! 
kiss  her  and  fondle  her  now  to  your  heart's  content — it  is  for 
the  last  time  !  Never  again  will  that  witching  glance  be  turned 
to  you  in  either  fear  or  favor — never  again  will  that  fair  body 
nestle  in  your  jealous  embrace — never  again  will  your  kisses 
burn  on  that  curved  sweet  mouth ;  never,  never  again !  Your 
day  is  done — the  last  brief  moments  of  your  sin's  enjoyment 
have  come — make  the  most  of  them ! — no  one  shall  interfere ! 
Drink  the  last  drop  of  sweet  wine — //rvhand  shall  not  dash  the 
cup  from  your  lips  on  this,  the  final  night  of  your  amour! 
Traitor,  liar,  and  hypocrite !  make  haste  to  be  happy  for  the 
short  time  that  yet  remains  to  you — shut  the  door  close,  lest 
the  pure  pale  stars  behold  your  love  ecstasies!  but  let  the 
perfumed  lamps  shed  their  softest  artificial  luster  on  all  that 
radiant  beauty  which  tempted  your  sensual  soul  to  ruin,  and 
of  which  you  are  now  permitted  to  take  your  last  look !  Let 
there  be  music  too — the  music  of  her  voice,  which  murmurs 
in  your  ear  such  entrancing  falsehoods!  "  She  will  be  true," 
she  says.  You  must  believe  her,  Guido,  as  I  did — and,  be- 
lieving her  thus,  part  from  her  as  lingeringly  and  tenderly  as 
you  will — part  from  \iQX— forever! 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Next  morning  I  kept  my  appointment  and  met  Ferrari  at 
the  railway  station.  He  looked  pale  and  haggard,  though  he 
brightened  a  little  on  seeing  me.  He  was  curiously  irritable 
and  fussy  with  the  porters  concerning  his  luggage,  and  argued 
with  them  about  some  petty  trifles  as  obstinately  and  perti- 
naciously as  a  deaf  old  woman.  His  nerves  were  evidently 
jarred  and  unstrung,  and  it  was  a  relief  when  he  at  last  got 


154 


vendetta! 


into  his  coupe.     He  carried  a  yellow  paper-covered  volume  in 
his  hand.     I  asked  him  if  it  contained  any  amusing  reading. 

"  I  really  do  not  know,"  he  answered,  indifferently;  "  I  have 
only  just  bought  it.     It  is  by  Victor  Hugo." 

And  he  held  up  the  title-page  for  me  to  see. 

"  Le  Dernier  Jour  d'un  Condamne,"  I  read  aloud  with  care- 
ful slowness.  "  Ah,  indeed !  You  do  well  to  read  that.  It  is 
a  very  fine  study !" 

The  train  was  on  the  point  of  starting,  when  he  leaned  out 
of  the  carriage  window  and  beckoned  me  to  approach  more 
closely. 

"Remember!"  he  whispered,  "I  trust  you  to  take  care  of 
her!" 

"  Never  fear !"  I  answered,  "  I  will  do  my  best  to  replace  you  !  " 

He  smiled  a  pale  uneasy  smile,  and  pressed  my  hand. 
These  were  our  last  words,  for  with  a  warning  shriek  the  train 
moved  off,  and  in  another  minute  had  rushed  out  of  sight.  I 
was  alone — alone  with  perfect  freedom  of  action — I  could  do 
as  I  pleased  with  my  wife  now !  I  could  even  kill  her  if  I 
chose— no  one  would  interfere.  I  could  visit  her  that  even- 
ing and  declare  myself  to  her — could  accuse  her  of  her  in- 
fidelity and  stab  her  to  the  heart!  Any  Italian  jury  would 
find  "  extenuating  circumstances"  for  me.  But  why?  Why 
should  I  lay  myself  open  to  a  charge  of  murder,  even  for  a 
just  cause?  No!  my  original  design  was  perfect,  and  I  must 
keep  to  it  and  work  it  out  with  patience,  though  patience  was 
difficult.  While  I  thus  meditated,  walking  from  the  station 
homeward,  I  was  startled  by  the  unexpected  appearance  of 
my  valet,  who  came  upon  me  quite  suddenly.  He  was  out  of 
breath  with  running,  and  he  carried  a  note  for  me  marked 
"Immediate."     It  was  from  my  wife,  and  ran  biiefly  thus: 

"  Please  come  at  once.     Stella  is  very  ill,  and  asks  for  you." 

"  Who  brought  this?"  I  demanded,  quickening  my  pace,  and 
signing  to  Vincenzo  to  keep  beside  me, 

"  The  old  man,  eccellenza — Giacomo.  He  was  weeping  and 
in  great  trouble — he  said  the  little  donzella  had  the  fever  in 
her  throat — it  is  the  diphtheria  he  means,  I  think.  She  was 
taken  ill  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  but  the  nurse  thought  it 
was  nothing  serious.  This  morning  she  has  been  getting 
worse,  and  is  in  danger." 

"  A  doctor  has  been  sent  for,  of  course?" 

"  Yes,  eccellenza.     So  Giacomo  said.    But '" 


vendetta!  155 

"But  7£'/z<2/?"  I  asKed,  quickly. 

"Nothing,  eccellenza!  Only  the  old  man  said  the  doctor 
had  come  too  late." 

My  heart  sunk  heavily,  and  a  sob  rose  in  my  throat.  I 
stopped  in  my  rapid  walk  and  bade  Vincenzo  call  a  carriage, 
one  of  the  ordinary  vehicles  that  are  everywhere  standing 
about  for  hire  in  the  principal  thoroughfares  of  Naples.  I 
sprung  into  this  and  told  the  driver  to  take  me  as  quickly  as 
possible  to  the  Villa  Romani,  and  adding  to  Vincenzo  that  I 
should  not  return  to  the  hotel  all  day,  I  was  soon  rattling 
along  the  uphill  road.  On  my  arrival  at  the  villa  I  found  the 
gates  open,  as  though  in  expectation  of  my  visit,  and  as  I  ap- 
proached the  entrance  door  of  the  house,  Giacomo  himself  met 
me. 

"  How  is  the  child.?"  I  asked  him  eagerly. 

He  made  no  reply,  but  shook  his  head  gravely,  and  pointed 
to  a  kindly-looking  man  who  was  at  that  moment  descending 
the  stairs — a  man  whom  I  instantly  recognized  as  a  celebrated 
English  doctor  resident  in  the  neighborhood.  To  him  I  re- 
peated my  inquiry — he  beckoned  me  into  a  side  room  and 
closed  the  door. 

"  The  fact  is,"  he  said,  simply,  "  it  is  a  case  of  gross  neglect. 
The  child  has  evidently  been  in  a  weakly  condition  for  some 
time  past,  and  therefore  is  an  easy  prey  to  any  disease  that 
may  be  lurking  about.  She  was  naturally  strong — I  can  see 
that — and  had  I  been  called  in  when  the  symptoms  first  de- 
veloped themselves,  I  could  have  cured  her.  The  nurse  tells 
me  she  dared  not  enter  the  mother's  room  to  disturb  her  after 
midnight,  otherwise  she  would  have  called  her  to  see  the 
child — it  is  unfortunate,  for  now  I  can  do  nothing." 

I  listened  like  one  in  a  dream.  Not  even  old  Assunta  dare 
to  enter  her  mistress'  room  after  midnight — no!  not  though 
the  child  might  be  seriously  ill  and  suffering.  I  knew  the 
reason  well — too  well !  And  so  while  Ferrari  had  taken  his 
fill  of  rapturous  embraces  and  lingering  farewells,  my  little 
one  had  been  allowed  to  struggle  in  pain  and  fever  without 
her  mother's  care  or  comfort.  Not  that  such  consolatioii 
would  have  been  much  at  its  best,  but  I  was  fool  enough  to 
wish  there  had  been  this  one  faint  spark  of  womanhood  left  in 
her  upon  whom  I  had  wasted  all  the  first  and  only  love  of  my 
life.  The  doctor  watched  me  as  I  remained  silent,  and  aiter 
ti  pause  he  spoke  again, 


156  vendetta! 

"  The  child  has  earnestly  asked  to  see  you,"  he  said,  "  and  I 
persuaded  the  countess  to  send  for  you,  though  she  was  very 
reluctant  to  do  so,  as  she  said  you  might  catch  the  disease. 
Of  course  there  is  always  a  risk " 

"  I  am  no  coward,  monsieur,"  I  interrupted  him,  "  though 
many  of  us  Italians  prove  but  miserable  panic-stricken 
wretches  in  time  of  plague — the  more  especially  when  com- 
pared with  the  intrepidity  and  pluck  of  Englishmen.  Still 
there  are  exceptions " 

The  doctor  smiled  courteously  and  bowed.  "  Then  I  have 
no  more  to  say,  except  that  it  would  be  well  for  you  to  see  my 
little  patient  at  once.  I  am  compelled  to  be  absent  for  half 
an  hour,  but  at  the  expiration  of  that  time  I  will  return." 

"  Stay !"  I  said,  laying  a  detaining  hand  on  his  arm.  "  Is 
there  any  hope?" 

He  eyed  me  gravely.     "  I  fear  not." 

"  Can  nothing  be  done?" 

"  Nothing — except  to  keep  her  as  quiet  and  warm  as  possi- 
ble. I  have  left  some  medicine  with  the  nurse  which  will 
alleviate  the  pain.  I  shall  be  able  to  judge  of  her  better  when 
I  return;  the  illness  will  have  then  reached  its  crisis."  In  a 
couple  of  minutes  more  he  had  left  the  house,  and  a  young 
maid-servant  showed  me  to  the  nursery. 

"  "Where  is  the  contessa?"  I  asked  in  a  whisper,  as  I  trod 
softly  up  the  stairs. 

"  The  contessa?"  said  the  girl,  opening  her  eyes  in  astonish- 
ment. "  In  her  own  bedroom,  eccellenza — madama  would  not 
think  of  leaving  it;  because  of  the  danger  of  infection." 

I  smothered  a  rough  oath  that  rose  involuntarily  to  my  lips. 
Another  proof  of  the  woman's  utter  heartlessness,  I  thought! 

"  Has  she  not  seen  her  child?" 

"Since  the  illness?    Oh,  no,  eccellenza!" 

Very  gently  and  on  tiptoe  I  entered  the  nursery.  The 
blinds  were  partially  drawn  as  the  strong  light  worried  the 
child,  and  by  the  little  white  bed  sat  Assunta,  her  brown  face 
pale  and  almost  rigid  with  anxiety.  At  my  approach  she 
raised  her  eyes  to  mine,  muttering  softly: 

"  It  is  always  so.  Our  Lady  will  have  the  best  of  all,  first 
the  father,  then  the  child ;  it  is  right  and  just — only  the  bad 
are  left." 

"Papa!"  moaned  a  little  voice  feebly,  and  Stella  sat  up 
among  her  tumbled  pillows,  with  wide-opened  wild  eyes, 


vendetta!  157 

feverish  cheeks,  and  parted  lips,  through  which  the  breath 
came  in  quick,  uneasy  gasps.  Shocked  at  the  marks  of  intense 
suffering  in  her  face.  I  put  my  arms  tenderly  round  her — she 
smiled  faintly  and  tried  to  kiss  me.  I  pressed  the  poor  parched 
little  mouth  and  murmured,  soothingly : 

"  Stella  must  be  patient  and  quiet — Stella  must  lie  down, 
the  pain  will  be  better  so;  there!  that  is  right!"  as  the  child 
sunk  back  on  her  bed  obediently,  still  keeping  her  gaze  fixed 
upon  me.  I  knelt  at  the  bedside,  and  watched  her  yearningly 
— while  Assunta  moistened  her  lips,  and  did  all  she  could  to 
ease  the  pain  endured  so  meekly  by  the  poor  little  thing,  whose 
breathing  grew  quicker  and  fainter  with  every  tick  of  the 
clock.  "  You  are  my  papa,  are  you  not?"  she  asked,  a  deeper 
flush  crossing  her  forehead  and  cheeks.  I  made  no  answer — I 
only  kissed  the  small  hot  hand  I  held.  Assunta  shook  her 
head. 

"  Ah,  poverinetta!  The  time  is  near — she  sees  her  father. 
And  why  not?  He  loved  her  well — he  would  come  to  fetch 
her  for  certain  if  the  saints  would  let  him." 

And  she  fell  on  her  knees  and  began  to  tell  over  her  rosary 
with  great  devotion.  Meanwhile  Stella  threw  one  little  arm 
round  my  neck — her  eyes  were  half  shut — she  spoke  and 
breathed  with  increasing  difficulty. 

"  My  throat  aches  so,  papa !"  she  said,  pitifully.  "  Can  you 
not  make  it  better?" 

"I  wish  I  could,  my  darling!"  I  murmured.  "I  would  bear 
all  the  pain  for  you  if  it  were  possible !" 

She  was  silent  a  minute.     Then  she  said : 

"  What  a  long  time  you  have  been  away !  And  now  I  am 
too  ill  to  play  with  you!"  Then  a  faint  smile  crossed  her 
features.  "  See  poor  To-to !"  she  exclaimed,  feebly,  as  her 
eyes  fell  on  a  battered  old  doll  in  the  spangled  dress  of  a  car- 
nival clown  that  lay  at  the  foot  of  her  bed.  "  Poor  dear  old 
To-to !  He  will  think  I  do  not  love  him  any  more,  because  my 
throat  hurts  me.     Give  him  to  me,  papa!" 

And  as  I  obeyed  her  request  she  encircled  the  doll  with  one 
arm,  while  she  still  clung  to  me  with  the  other,  and  added : 

"  To-to  remembers  you,  papa;  you  know  you  brought  him 
from  Rome,  and  he  is  fond  of  you,  too — but  not  as  fond  as  I 
am !"  And  her  dark  eyes  glittered  feverishly.  Suddenly  her 
glance  fell  on  Assunta,  whose  gray  head  was  buried  in  her 
hands  as  she  knelt. 


158  vendetta! 

"Assunta!" 

The  old  woman  looked  up. 

"  Bambinetta!"  she  answered,  and  her  aged  voice  trembled. 

"  Why  are  you  crying?"  inquired  Stella  with  an  air  of  plain- 
tive surprise.     "  Are  you  not  glad  to  see  papa?" 

Her  words  were  interrupted  by  a  sharp  spasm  of  pain  which 
convulsed  her  whole  body — she  gasped  for  breath — she  was 
nearly  suffocated.  Assunta  and  I  raised  her  up  gently  and 
supported  her  against  her  pillows ;  the  agony  passed  slowly, 
but  left  her  little  face  white  and  rigid,  while  large  drops  of 
sweat  gathered  on  her  brow.     I  endeavored  to  soothe  her. 

"Darling,  you  must  not  talk,"  I  whispered,  imploringly; 
''  try  to  be  very  still — then  the  poor  throat  will  not  ache  so 
much." 

She  looked  at  me  wistfully.  After  a  minute  or  two  she 
said,  gently  : 

"  Kiss  me,  then,  and  I  will  be  quite  good." 

I  kissed  her  fondly,  and  she  closed  her  eyes.  Ten,  twenty, 
■ihirty  minutes  passed  and  she  did  not  stir.  At  the  end  of  that 
time  the  doctor  entered.  He  glanced  at  her,  gave  me  a  warn- 
ing look,  and  remained  standing  quietly  at  the  foot  of  the  bed. 
Suddenly  the  child  woke,  and  smiled  divinely  on  all  three  of  us. 

"  Are  you  in  pain,  my  dear?"  I  softly  asked. 

"  No !"  she  answered  in  a  tiny  voice,  so  faint  and  far  away 
that  we  held  our  breath  to  listen  to  it;  "I  am  quite  well  now. 
Assunta  must  dress  me  in  my  white  frock  again  now  papa  is 
here.     I  knew  he  would  come  back !" 

And  she  turned  her  eyes  upon  me  with  a  look  of  briglit 
intelligence. 

"  Her  brain  wanders,"  said  the  doctor,  in  a  low,  pitying 
voice;  "it  will  soon  be  over." 

Stella  did  not  hear  him ;  she  turned  and  nestled  in  my  arms, 
asking  in  a  sort  of  babbling  whisper: 

"  You  did  not  go  away  because  I  was  naughty,  did  you, 
papa?" 

"  No,  darling !"  I  answered,  hiding  my  face  in  her  curls. 

"  Why  do  you  have  those  ugly  black  things  on?"  she  asked, 
in  the  feeblest  and  most  plaintive  tone  imaginable,  so  weak 
that  I  myself  could  scarcely  hear  it ;  "  has  somebody  hurt  your 
eyes?  Let  me  see  your  eyes !"  I  hesitated.  Dare  I  humor  her 
in  her  fancy?  I  glanced  up.  The  doctor's  head  again  was 
turned  away ;  Assunta  was  on  her  knees,  her  face  buried  in  the 


VENDETTA!  1 59 

bed-clothes,  praying  to  her  saints ;  quick  as  thought  I  slipped 
my  spectacles  slightly  down,  and  looked  over  them  full  at 
my  little  one.  She  uttered  a  soft  cry  of  delight — "Papa! 
papa!"  and  stretched  out  her  arms,  then  a  strong  and  terrible 
shudder  shook  her  little  frame.  The  doctor  came  closer — I 
replaced  my  glasses  without  my  action  being  noticed,  and  we 
both  bent  anxiously  over  the  suffering  child.  Her  face  paled 
and  grew  livid — she  made  another  effort  to  speak — her  beauti- 
ful eyes  rolled  upward  and  became  fixed — she  sighed — and 
sunk  back  on  my  shoulder — dying — dead !  My  poor  little  one ! 
A  hard  sob  stifled  itself  in  my  throat — I  clasped  the  small 
lifeless  body  close  in  my  embrace,  and  my  tears  fell  hot  and 
fast.  There  was  a  long  silence  in  the  room — a  deep,  an  awe- 
struck, reverent  silence,  while  the  Angel  of  Death,  noiselessly 
entering  and  departing,  gathered  my  little  white  rose  for  his 
Immortal  Garden  of  flowers. 


CHAPTER  XVm. 

After  some  little  time  the  doctor's  genial  voice,  slightly 
tremulous  from  kindly  emotion,  roused  me  from  my  grief- 
stricken  attitude. 

"  Monsieur,  permit  me  to  persuade  you  to  come  away.  Poor 
little  child !  she  is  free  from  pain  now.  Her  fancy  that  you 
were  her  father  was  a  fortunate  delusion  for  her.  It  made  her 
last  moments  happy.  Pray  come  with  me — I  can  see  this  has 
been  a  shock  to  your  feelings." 

Reverently  I  laid  the  fragile  corpse  back  on  the  yet  warm 
pillows.  With  a  fond  touch  I  stroked  the  flaxen  head ;  I  closed 
the  dark,  upturned  and  glazing  eyes — I  kissed  the  waxen 
cheeks  and  lips,  and  folded  the  tiny  hands  in  an  attitude  of 
prayer.  There  was  a  grave  smile  on  the  young  dead  face — a 
smile  of  superior  wisdom  and  sweetness,  majestic  in  its  sim- 
plicity. Assunta  rose  from  her  knees  and  laid  her  crucifix  on 
the  little  breast — the  tears  were  running  down  her  worn  and 
withered  countenance.  As  she  strove  to  wipe  them  away 
with  her  apron,  she  said,  tremblingly: 

"  It  must  be  told  to  madama."  A  frown  came  on  the  doctor's 
face.  He  was  evidently  a  true  Britisher,  decisive  in  his 
opinions,  and  frank  enough  to  declare  them  openly.     "  Yes," 


i6o  vendetta! 

he  said,  curtly,  "  madama,  as  you  call  her,  should  have  been 
here." 

"  The  little  angel  did  not  once  ask  for  her,"  murmured 

Assunta. 

"  True !"  he  answered.  And  again  there  was  silence.  We 
stood  round  the  small  bed,  looking  at  the  empty  casket  that 
had  held  the  lost  jewel — the  flawless  pearl  of  innocent  child- 
hood that  had  gone,  according  to  a  graceful  superstition,  to 
ornament  the  festal  robes  of  the  Madonna  as  she  walked  in  all 
her  majesty  through  heaven.  A  profound  grief  was  at  my 
heart — mingled  with  a  sense  of  mysterious  and  awful  satisfac- 
tion. I  felt,  not  as  though  I  had  lost  my  child,  but  had  rather 
gained  her  to  be  more  entirely  mine  than  ever.  She  seemed 
nearer  to  me  dead  than  she  had  been  when  living.  Who  could 
say  what  her  future  might  have  been?  She  would  have  grown 
to  womanhood — what  then?  What  is  the  usual  fate  that  falls 
to  even  the  best  women?  Sorrow,  pain,  and  petty  worry,  un- 
satisfied longings,  incompleted  aims,  the  disappointment  of 
an  imperfect  and  fettered  life — for  say  what  you  will  to  the 
contrary,  woman's  inferiority  to  man,  her  physical  weakness, 
her  inability  to  accomplish  any  great  thing  for  the  welfare  of 
the  world  in  which  she  lives,  will  always  make  her  more  or 
less  an  object  of  pity.  If  good,  she  needs  all  the  tenderness, 
support,  and  chivalrous  guidance  of  her  master,  man — if  bad, 
she  merits  what  she  receives,  his  pitiless  disdain  and  measure- 
less contempt.  From  all  dangers  and  griefs  of  the  kind  my 
Stella  had  escaped — for  her,  sorrow  no  longer  existed.  I  was 
glad  of  it,  I  thought,  as  I  watched  Assunta  shutting  the  blinds 
close,  as  a  signal  to  outsiders  that  death  was  in  the  house. 
At  a  sign  from  the  doctor  I  followed  him  out  of  the  room — on 
the  stairs,  he  turned  round  abruptly,  and  asked : 

"  Y^ill  you  tell  the  countess?" 

"I  would  rather  be  excused,"  I  replied,  decisively.  "I  am 
not  at  all  in  the  humor  for  a  scene." 

"  You  think  she  will  make  a  scene?"  he  said  with  an  aston- 
ished uplifting  of  his  eyebrows.  "  I  dare  say  you  are  right 
though!    She  is  an  excellent  actress." 

By  this  time  we  had  reached  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

"  She  is  very  beautiful,"  I  answered  evasively. 

"  Oh,  very !  No  doubt  of  that !"  And  here  a  strange  frown 
contracted  the  doctor's  brow.  "  For  my  own  taste,  I  prefer 
an  ugly  woman  to  such  beauty." 


■  vendetta!  i6i 

And  with  these  words  he  left  me,  disappearing  down  the 
passage  which  led  to  "  madama's"  boudoir.  Left  alone,  I  paced 
up  and  down  the  drawing-room,  gazing  abstractedly  on  its 
costly  fittings,  its  many  luxurious  knickknacks  and  elegancies 
— most  of  which  I  had  given  to  my  wife  during  the  first  few 
months  of  our  marriage.  By  and  by  I  heard  the  sound  of 
violent  hysterical  sobbing,  accompanied  by  the  noise  of 
hurrying  footsteps  and  the  rapid  whisking  about  of  female 
garments.  In  a  few  moments  the  doctor  entered  with  an  ex- 
pression of  sardonic  amusement  on  his  face.  "Yes!"  he  said 
in  reply  to  my  look  of  inquiry,  "  hysterics,  lace  handkerchiefs, 
eau-de-Cologne,  and  attempts  at  fainting.  All  very  well  done! 
I  have  assured  the  lady  there  is  no  fear  of  contagion,  as  under 
my  orders  everything  will  be  thoroughly  disinfected.  I  shall 
go  now.  Oh,  by  the  way,  the  countess  requests  that  you  will 
wait  here  a  few  minutes — she  has  a  message  for  you — she  will 
not  detain  you  long.  I  should  recommend  you  to  get  back  to 
your  hotel  as  soon  as  you  can,  and  take  some  good  wine.  A 
rivederci !    Anything  I  can  do  for  you  pray  command  me !" 

And  with  a  cordial  shake  of  the  hand  he  left  me,  and  I  heard 
the  street  door  close  behind  him.  Again  I  paced  wearily  up 
and  down,  wrapped  in  sorrowful  musings.  I  did  not  hear  a 
stealthy  tread  on  the  carpet  behind  me,  so  that  when  I  turned 
round  abruptly,  I  was  startled  to  find  myself  face  to  face  with 
old  Giacomo,  who  held  out  a  note  to  me  on  a  silver  salver,  and 
who  meanwhile  peered  at  me  with  his  eager  eyes  in  so  inquis- 
itive a  manner  that  I  felt  almost  uneasy. 

"  And  so  the  little  angel  is  dead !"  he  murmured  in  a  thin, 
quavering  voice.  "  Dead  !  Ay,  that  is  a  pity,  a  pity !  But 
my  master  is  not  dead — no,  no !  I  am  not  such  an  old  fool  as 
to  believe  that." 

I  paid  no  heed  to  his  rambling  talk,  but  read  the  message 
Nina  had  sent  to  me  through  him. 

"  I  am  broken-hearted"  so  ran  the  delicately  penciled  lines. 
"  Will  you  kindly  telegraph  my  dreadful  loss  to  Signer  Fer- 
rari? I  shall  be  much  obliged  to  you."  I  looked  up  from  the 
perfumed  missive  and  down  at  the  old  butler's  wrinkled  vis- 
age ;  he  was  a  short  man  and  much  bent,  and  something  in  the 
downward  glance  I  gave  him  evidently  caught  and  riveted  his 
attention,  for  he  clasped  his  hands  together  and  muttered 
something  I  could  not  hear. 

"  Tell  your  mistress,"  I  said,  speaking  slowly  and  harshly, 
II 


i62  vendetta! 

"  that  I  will  do  as  she  wishes — that  I  am  entirely  at  her  ser- 
vice.    Do  you  understand?" 

"  Yes,  yes !  I  understand !"  faltered  Giacomo,  nervously, 
"  My  master  never  thought  me  foolish — I  could  always  under- 
stand him " 

"  Do  you  know,  my  friend,"  I  observed,  in  a  purposely  cold 
and  cutting  tone,  "  that  I  have  heard  somewhat  too  much 
about  your  master?  The  subject  is  tiresome  to  me!  Were 
your  master  alive,  he  would  say  you  were  in  your  dotage! 
Take  my  message  to  the  countess  at  once." 

The  old  man's  face  paled  and  his  lips  quivered — he  made  an 
attempt  to  draw  up  his  shrunken  figure  with  a  sort  of  dignity 
as  he  answered : 

"  Eccellenza,  my  master  would  never  speak  to  me  so — never, 
never!"  Then  his  countenance  fell,  and  he  muttered,  softly — 
"  Though  it  is  just — I  am  a  fool — I  am  mistaken — quite  mis- 
taken— there  is  no  resemblance!"  After  a  little  pause  he 
added,  humbly,  "I  will  take  your  message,  eccellenza."  And 
stooping  more  than  ever,  he  shambled  out  of  the  room.  My 
heart  smote  me  as  he  disappeared ;  I  had  spoken  very  harshly 
to  the  poor  old  fellow — but  I  instinctively  felt  that  it  was 
necessary  to  do  so.  His  close  and  ceaseless  examination  of 
me — his  timidity  when  he  approached  me — the  strange  tremors 
he  experienced  when  I  addressed  him,  were  so  many  warnings 
to  me  to  be  on  my  guard  with  this  devoted  domestic.  Were 
he,  by  some  unforeseen  chance,  to  recognize  me.  my  plans 
would  all  be  spoiled.  I  took  my  hat  and  left  the  house.  As 
I  crossed  the  upper  terrace,  I  saw  a  small  round  object  lying 
in  the  grass — it  was  Stella's  ball  that  she  used  to  throw  for 
Wyvis  to  catch  and  bring  to  her.  I  picked  up  the  poor  play- 
thing tenderly  and  put  it  in  my  pocket — and  glancing  up  once 
more  at  the  darkened  nursery  windows,  I  waved  a  kiss  of 
farewell  to  my  little  one  lying  there  in  her  last  sleep.  Then 
fiercely  controlling  all  the  weaker  and  softer  emotions  that 
threatened  to  overwhelm  me,  I  hurried  away.  On  my  road  to 
the  hotel  I  stopped  at  the  telegraph-office  and  dispatched  the 
news  of  Stella's  death  to  Guido  Ferrari  in  Rome.  He  would 
be  surprised,  I  thought,  but  certainly  not  grieved — the  poor 
child  had  always  been  in  his  way.  Would  he  come  back  to 
Naples  to  console  the  now  childless  widow?  Not  he! — he 
would  know  well  that  she  stood  in  very  small  need  of  conso- 
lation—and that  she  took  Stella's  death  as  she  had  taken  mine 


1  vendetta!  163 

— as  a  blessing,  and  not  a  bereavement.  On  reaching  my  own 
rooms,  I  gave  orders  to  Vincenzo  that  I  was  not  at  home  to 
any  one  who  might  call — and  I  passed  the  rest  of  the  day  in 
absolute  solitude.  I  had  much  to  think  of.  The  last  frail  tie 
between  my  wife  and  myself  had  been  snapped  asunder — the 
child,  the  one  innocent  link  in  the  long  chain  of  falsehood  and 
deception,  no  longer  existed.  Was  I  glad  or  sorry  for  this?  I 
asked  myself  the  question  a  hundred  times;  and  I  admitted 
the  truth,  though  I  trembled  to  realize  it.  I  ^a.s  glad — yes — 
glad!  Glad  that  my  own  child  was  dead !  You  call  this  in- 
human perhaps?  Why?  She  was  bound  to  have  been  miser- 
able ;  she  was  now  happy ! 

The  tragedy  of  her  parents'  lives  could  be  enacted  without 
imbittering  and  darkening  her  young  days ;  she  was  out  of  it 
all,  and  I  rejoiced  to  know  it.  For  I  was  absolutely  relentless ; 
had  my  little  Stella  lived,  not  even  for  her  sake  would  I  have 
relaxed  in  one  detail  of  my  vengeance — nothing  seemed  to  me 
so  paramount  as  the  necessity  for  restoring  my  own  self- 
respect  and  damaged  honor.  In  England  I  know  these  things 
are  managed  by  the  Divorce  Court.  Lawyers  are  paid  ex- 
orbitant fees,  and  the  names  of  the  guilty  and  innocent  are 
dragged  through  the  revolting  slums  of  the  low  London  press. 
It  may  be  an  excellent  method — but  it  does  not  tend  to  elevate 
a  man  in  his  own  eyes,  and  it  certainly  does  not  do  much  to 
restore  his  lost  dignity.  It  has  one  advantage — it  enables  the 
criminal  parties  to  have  their  way  without  further  interfer- 
ence— the  wronged  husband  is  set  free — left  out  in  the  cold — 
and  laughed  at  by  those  who  wronged  him.  An  admirable 
arrangement  no  doubt — but  one  that  would  not  suit  me. 
1  Chacun  a  son  godt !  It  would  be  curious  to  know  in  matters  of 
this  kind  whether  divorced  persons  are  really  satisfied  when 
they  have  got  their  divorce — whether  the  amount  of  red  tape 
and  parchment  expended  in  their  interest  has  done  them  good 
and  really  relieved  their  feelings — whether,  for  instance,  the 
betrayed  husband  is  glad  to  have  got  rid  of  his  unfaithful  wife 
by  throwing  her  (with  the  full  aiithority  and  permission  of  the 
law)  into  his  rival's  arms!  I  almost  doubt  it!  I  heard  of  a 
strange  case  in  England  once.  A  man,  moving  in  good 
society,  having  more  than  suspicions  of  his  wife's  fidelity, 
divorced  her — the  law  pronounced  her  guilty.  Some  years 
afterward,  he,  being  free,  met  her  again,  fell  in  love  with  her 
for  the  second  time  and  remarried  her.     She  was  (naturally !) 


164  vendetta! 

delighted  at  his  making  such  a  fool  of  himself — for  hencerorth, 
whatever  she  chose  to  do,  he  could  not  reasonably  complain 
without  running  the  risk  of  being  laughed  at.  So  now  the 
number  and  variety  of  her  lovers  is  notorious  in  the  particular 
social  circle  where  she  moves — while  he,  poor  wretch,  is  per- 
force tongue-tied,  and  dare  not  consider  himself  wronged. 
There  is  no  more  pitiable  object  in  the  world  than  such  a  man 
— secretly  derided  and  jeered  at  by  his  fellows,  he  occupies  an 
almost  worse  position  than  that  of  a  galley  slave,  while  in  his 
own  esteem  he  has  sunk  so  low  that  he  dare  not,  even  in 
secret,  try  to  fathom  the  depth  to  which  he  has  fallen.  Some 
may  assert  that  to  be  divorced  is  a  social  stigma.  It  used  to 
be  so  perhaps,  but  society  has  grown  very  lenient  nowadays. 
Divorced  women  hold  their  own  in  the  best  and  most  brilliant 
circles,  and  what  is  strange  is  that  they  are  very  generally 
petted  and  pitied. 

"  Poor  thing!"  says  society,  putting  up  its  eyeglass  to  scan 
admiringly  the  beautiful  heroine  of  the  latest  aristocratic 
scandal — "  she  had  such  a  brute  of  a  husband !  No  wonder  she 
liked  that  dear  Lord  So-and-So !  Very  wrong  of  her,  of  course, 
but  she  is  so  young !  She  was  married  at  sixteen — quite  a 
child ! — could  not  have  known  her  own  mind !" 

The  husband  alluded  to  might  have  been  the  best  and  most 
chivalrous  of  men — anything  but  a  "  brute" — yet  he  always 
figures  as  such  somehow,  and  gets  no  sympathy.  And,  by  the 
way,  it  is  rather  a  notable  fact  that  all  the  beautiful,  famous, 
or  notorious  women  were  "married  at  sixteen."  How  is  this 
managed?  I  can  account  for  it  in  southern  climates,  where 
girls  are  full-grown  at  sixteen  and  old  at  thirty — but  I  can  not 
understand  its  being  the  case  in  England,  where  a  "  miss"  of 
sixteen  is  a  most  objectionable  and  awkward  inginue  without 
any  of  the  "  charms  wherewith  to  charm,"  and  whose  conver- 
sation is  always  vapid  and  silly  to  the  point  of  absolute  ex- 
haustion on  the  part  of  those  who  are  forced  to  listen  to  it. 
These  sixteen-year-old  marriages  are,  however,  the  only 
explanation  frisky  English  matrons  can  give  for  having  such 
alarmingly  prolific  families  of  tall  sons  and  daughters,  and  it 
is  a  happy  and  convenient  excuse — one  that  provides  a  satis- 
factory reason  for  the  excessive  painting  of  their  faces  and 
dyeing  of  their  hair.  Being  young  (as  they  so  nobly  assert), 
they  wish  to  look  even  younger.  A  la  bonne  heure  !  If  men 
can  not  see  through  the  delicate  fiction,  they  have  only  them- 


vendetta!  165 

selves  to  blame.  As  for  me,  I  believe  in  the  old,  old,  appar- 
ently foolish  legend  of  Adam  and  Eve's  sin  and  the  curse 
which  followed  it — the  curse  on  man  which  is  inevitably  car- 
ried out  to  this  day.     God  said : 

"  Because"  (mark  that  because  /)  "  thou  hast  hearkened  unto 
the  voice  of  thy  wife"  (or  thy  woman,  whoever  she  be),  "and 
hast  eaten  of  the  tree  of  which  I  commanded  thee,  saying, 
Thou  shalt  not  eat  of  it"  (the  tree  or  fruit  being  the  evil  sug- 
gested yfrj/  to  man  by  woman),  "  cursed  is  the  ground  for  thy 
sake ;  in  sorrow  shalt  thou  eat  of  it  all  the  days  of  thy  life !" 

True  enough !  The  curse  is  upon  all  who  trust  woman  too 
far — the  sorrow  upon  all  who  are  beguiled  by  her  witching 
flatteries.  Of  what  avail  her  poor  excuse  in  the  ancient  story 
— "  The  serpent  beguiled  me  and  I  did  eat!"  Had  she  never 
listened  she  could  not  have  been  beguiled.  The  weakness, 
the  treachery,  was  in  herself,  and  is  there  still.  Through 
everything  the  bitterness  of  it  runs.  The  woman  tempts — the 
man  yields — and  the  gate  of  Eden — the  Eden  of  a  clear  con- 
science and  an  untrammeled  soul — is  shut  upon  them.  For- 
ever and  ever  the  Divine  denunciation  re-echoes  like  mutter- 
ing thunder  through  the  clouds  of  passing  generations ;  forever 
and  ever  we  unconsciously  carry  it  out  in  our  own  lives  to  its 
full  extent  till  the  heart  grows  sick  and  the  brain  weary,  and 
we  long  for  the  end  of  it  all,  which  is  death — death,  that  mys- 
terious silence  and  darkness  at  which  we  sometimes  shudder, 
wondering  vaguely — Can  it  be  worse  than  life? 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

More  than  ten  days  had  passed  since  Stella's  death.  Her 
mother  had  asked  me  to  see  to  the  arrangements  for  the  child's 
funeral,  declaring  herself  too  ill  to  attend  to  anything.  I  was 
glad  enough  to  accede  to  her  request,  for  I  was  thus  able  to 
avoid  the  Romani  vault  as  a  place  of  interment.  I  could  not 
bear  to  think  of  the  little  cherished  body  being  laid  to  molder 
in  that  terrific  place  where  I  had  endured  such  frantic  horrors. 
Therefore,  informing  all  whom  it  concerned  that  I  acted  under 
the  countess's  orders,  I  chose  a  pretty  spot  in  the  open  ground 
of  the  cemetery,  close  to  the  tree  where  I  had  heard  the  night- 
ingale singing  in  my  hour  of  supreme  misery  and  suffering. 


i66  vendetta! 

Here  my  little  one  was  laid  tenderly  to  rest  in  warm  mother- 
earth,  and  I  had  sweet  violets  and  primroses  planted  thickly 
all  about  the  place,  while  on  the  simple  white  marble  cross 
that  marked  the  spot  I  had  the  words  engraved — 

"Una  Stella  svanita,"* 

adding  the  names  of  her  parents  and  the  date  of  her  birth  and 
death.  Since  all  this  had  been  done  I  had  visited  my  wife 
several  times.  She  was  always  at  home  to  me,  though  of 
course,  for  decency's  sake,  in  consequence  of  the  child's  death, 
she  denied  herself  to  everybody  else.  She  looked  lovelier 
than  ever;  the  air  of  delicate  languor  she  assumed  suited  her 
as  perfectly  as  its  fragile  whiteness  suits  a  hot-house  lily.  She 
knew  the  power  of  her  own  beauty  most  thoroughly,  and  em- 
ployed it  in  arduous  efforts  to  fascinate  me.  But  I  had 
changed  my  tactics;  I  paid  very  little  heed  to  her,  and  never 
went  to  see  her  unless  she  asked  me  very  pressingly  to  do  so. 
All  compliments  and  attentions  from  me  to  her  had  ceased. 
She  courted  me,  and  I  accepted  her  courtship  in  unresponsive 
silence.  I  played  the  part  of  a  taciturn  and  reserved  man, 
who  preferred  reading  some  ancient  and  abstruse  treatise  on 
metaphysics  to  even  the  charms  of  her  society — and  often, 
when  she  urgently  desired  my  company,  I  would  sit  in  her 
drawing-room,  turning  over  the  leaves  of  a  book  and  feigning 
to  be  absorbed  in  it,  while  she,  from  her  vq\\^\.  fauteuil,  would 
look  at  me  with  a  pretty  pensiveness  made  up  half  of  respect, 
half  of  gentle  admiration — a  capitally  acted  facial  expression, 
by  the  bye,  and  one  that  would  do  credit  to  Sarah  Bernhardt. 
We  had  both  heard  from  Guido  Ferrari ;  his  letter  to  my  wife 
I  of  course  did  not  see;  she  had,  however,  told  me  he  was 
"  much  shocked  and  distressed  to  hear  of  Stella's  death."  The 
epistle  he  addressed  to  me  had  a  different  tale  to  tell.  In  it 
he  wrote :  "  You  can  understand,  my  dear  conte,  that  I  am  not 
much  grieved  to  hear  of  the  death  of  Fabio's  child.  Had  she 
lived,  I  confess  her  presence  would  have  been  a  perpetual  re- 
minder to  me  of  things  I  prefer  to  forget.  She  never  liked 
me — she  might  have  been  a  great  source  of  trouble  and  in- 
convenience; so,  on  the  whole,  I  am  glad  she  is  out  of  the 
way." 

Further  on  in  the  letter  he  informed  me : 

"  My  uncle  is  at  death's  door,  but  though  that  door  stands 

*  A  vanished  star. 


C  vendetta!  167 

wide  open  for  him,  he  can  not  make  up  his  mind  to  go  in. 
His  hesitation  will  not  be  allowed  to  last,  so  the  doctors  tell 
me — at  any  rate  I  fervently  hope  I  shall  not  be  kept  waiting 
too  long;  otherwise  I  shall  return  to  Naples  and  sacrifice  my 
heritage,  for  I  am  restless  and  unhappy  away  from  Nina, 
though  I  know  she  is  safely  guarded  by  your  protecting  care." 

I  read  this  particular  paragraph  to  my  wife,  watching  her 
closely  as  I  slowly  enunciated  the  words  contained  in  it.  She 
listened,  and  a  vivid  blush  crimsoned  her  cheeks — a  blush  of 
indignation — and  her  brows  contracted  in  the  vexed  frown  I 
knew  so  well.  Her  lips  parted  in  a  half-sweet,  half-chilly 
smile  as  she  said,  quietly : 

"  I  owe  you  my  thanks,  conte,  for  showing  me  to  what  ex- 
tent Signor  Ferrari's  impertinence  may  reach.  I  am  surprised 
at  his  writing  to  you  in  such  a  manner!  The  fact  is,  my  late 
husband's  attachment  for  him  was  so  extreme  that  he  now 
presumes  upon  a  supposed  right  that  he  has  over  me — he  fan- 
cies I  am  really  his  sister,  and  that  he  can  tyrannize,  as 
brothers  sometimes  do  !  I  really  regret  I  have  been  so  patient 
with  him — I  have  allowed  him  too  much  liberty." 

True  enough!  I  thought,  and  smiled  bitterly.  I  was  now 
in  the  heat  of  the  game — the  moves  must  be  played  quickly — 
there  was  no  more  time  for  hesitation  or  reflection. 

"  I  think,  madame,"  I  said,  deliberately,  as  I  folded  Guido's 
letter  and  replaced  it  in  my  pocket-book,  "  Signor  Ferrari 
ardently  aspires  to  be  something  more  than  a  brother  to  you 
at  no  very  distant  date." 

Oh,  the  splendid  hypocrisy  of  women!  No  wonder  they 
make  such  excellent  puppets  on  the  theatrical  stage — acting  is 
their  natural  existence,  sham  their  breath  of  life !  This  crea- 
ture showed  no  sign  of  embarrassment — she  raised  her  eyes 
frankly  to  mine  in  apparent  surprise — then  she  gave  a  little 
low  laugh  of  disdain. 

"  Indeed !"  she  said.  "  Then  I  fear  Signor  Ferrari  is  doomed 
to  have  his  aspirations  disappointed!  My  dear  conte,"  and 
here  she  rose  and  swept  softly  across  the  room  toward  me  with 
that  graceful  gliding  step  that  somehow  always  reminded  me 
of  the  approach  of  a  panther,  "  do  you  really  mean  to  tell  me 
that  his  audacity  has  reached  such  a  height  that — really  it  is  too 
absurd! — that  he  hopes  to  marry  me?"  And  sinking  into  a 
chair  near  mine  she  looked  at  me  in  calm  inquiry.  Lost  in 
amazement  at  the  duplicity  of  the  woman,  I  answered,  briefly: 


1 68  vendetta! 

"  I  believe  so!    He  intimated  as  much  to  me." 

She  smiled  scornfully. 

"I  am  too  much  honored!  And  did  you,  conte,  think  for  a 
moment  that  such  an  arrangement  would  meet  with  my 
approval?" 

I  was  silent.  My  brain  was  confused — I  found  it  difficult  to 
meet  with  and  confront  such  treachery  as  this.  What !  Had 
she  no  conscience?  Were  all  the  passionate  embraces,  the 
lingering  kisses,  the  vows  of  fidelity,  and  words  of  caressing 
endearment  as  naught?  W^ere  they  all  blotted  from  her 
memory  as  the  writing  on  a  slate  is  wiped  out  by  a  sponge? 
Almost  I  pitied  Guido!  His  fate,  in  her  hands,  was  evidently 
to  be  the  same  as  mine  had  been;  yet  after  all,  why  should  I 
be  surprised?  Why  should  I  pity?  Had  I  not  calculated  it  all? 
And  was  it  not  part  of  my  vengeance? 

"Tell  me!"  pursued  my  wife's  dulcet  voice,  breaking  in 
upon  my  reflections,  "  did  you  really  imagine  Signor  Ferrari's 
suit  might  meet  with  favor  at  my  hands?" 

I  must  speak — the  comedy  had  to  be  played  out.  So  I  an- 
swered, bluntly: 

"  Madame,  I  certainly  did  think  so.  It  seemed  a  natural 
conclusion  to  draw  from  the  course  of  events.  He  is  young, 
undeniably  handsome,  and  on  his  uncle's  death  will  be  fairly 
wealthy — what  more  could  you  desire?  Besides,  he  was  your 
husband's  friend " 

"  And  for  that  reason  I  would  never  marry  him !"  she  inter- 
rupted me  with  a  decided  gesture.  "  Even  if  I  liked  him 
sufficiently,  which  I  do  not"  (oh,  miserable  traitress),  "  I  would 
not  run  the  risk  of  what  the  world  would  say  of  such  a 
marriage." 

"  How,  madame?    Pardon  me  if  I  fail  to  comprehend  you." 

"  Do  you  not  see,  conte.?"  she  went  on  in  a  coaxing  voice,  as 
of  one  that  begged  to  be  believed,  "  if  I  were  to  marry  one 
that  was  known  to  have  been  my  husband's  most  intimate 
friend,  society  is  so  wicked — people  would  be  sure  to  say  that 
there  had  been  something  between  us  before  my  husband's 
death — I  know  they  would,  and  I  could  not  endure  such 
slander !" 

"  Murder  will  out,"  they  say!  Here  was  guilt  partially  de- 
claring itself.  A  perfectly  innocent  woman  could  not  foresee 
so  readily  the  condemnation  of  society.  Not  having  the 
knowledge  of  evil  she  would  be  unable  to  calculate  the  conse- 


VENDETTA.  I 69 

quences.  The  overprudish  woman  betrays  herself;  the  fine 
lady  who  virtuously  shudders  at  the  sight  of  a  nude  statue  or 
picture,  announces  at  once  to  all  whom  it  may  concern  that 
there  is  something  far  coarser  in  the  suggestions  of  her  own 
mind  than  the  work  of  art  she  condemns.  Absolute  purity 
has  no  fear  of  social  slander;  it  knows  its  own  value,  and  that 
it  must  conquer  in  the  end.  My  wife — alas !  that  I  should  call 
her  so — was  innately  vicious  and  false;  yet  how  particular 
she  was  in  her  efforts  to  secure  the  blind  world's  good  opinion ! 
Poor  old  world!  how  exquisitely  it  is  fooled,  and  how  good- 
naturedly  it  accepts  its  fooling!  But  I  had  to  answer  the  fair 
liar,  whose  net  of  graceful  deceptions  was  now  spread  to  en- 
trap me ;  therefore  I  said  with  an  effort  at  courtesy : 

"  No  one  would  dare  to  slander  you,  contessa,  in  my  pres- 
ence," She  bowed  and  smiled  prettily.  "  But."  I  went  on,  "  if 
it  is  true  that  you  have  no  liking  for  Signer  Ferrari " 

"  It  is  true !"  she  exclaimed  with  sudden  emphasis.  "  He  is 
rough  and  ill-mannered ;  I  have  seen  him  the  worse  for  wine ; 
sometimes  he  is  insufferable !     I  am  afraid  of  him !" 

I  glanced  at  her  quietly.  Her  face  had  paled,  and  her 
hands,  which  were  busied  with  some  silken  embroidery, 
trembled  a  little. 

"  In  that  case,"  I  continued,  slowly,  "though  I  am  sorry  for 
Ferrari — poor  fellow !  he  will  be  immensely  disappointed ! — I 
confess  I  am  glad  in  other  respects,  because " 

"  Because  what?"  she  demanded,  eagerly. 

"Why,"  I  answered,  feigning  a  little  embarrassment,  "be- 
cause there  will  be  more  chance  for  other  men  who  may  seek 
to  possess  the  hand  of  the  accomplished  and  beautiful  Con- 
tessa Romani." 

She  shook  her  fair  head  slightly.  A  transient  expression  of 
disappointment  passed  over  her  features. 

"  The  'other  men'  you  speak  of,  conte,  are  not  likely  to  in- 
dulge in  such  an  ambition,"  she  said,  with  a  faint  sigh ;  "  more 
especially,"  and  her  eyes  flashed  indignantly,  "  since  Signor 
Ferrari  thinks  it  his  duty  to  mount  guard  over  me.  I  suppose 
he  wishes  to  keep  me  for  himself — a  most  impertinent  and 
foolish  notion !  There  is  only  one  thing  to  do — I  shall  leave 
Naples  before  he  returns." 

"  Why?"  I  asked. 

She  flushed  deeply.  "I  wish  to  avoid  him,"  she  said,  after 
a  little  pause;   "I  tell  you  frankly,  he  has  lately  given  me 


I/O     "  vendetta! 

much  cause  for  annoyance.  I  will  not  be  persecuted  by  his 
attentions;  and  as  I  before  said  to  you,  I  am  often  afraid  of 
him.  Under  your  protection  I  know  I  am  quite  safe,  but  I  can 
not  always  enjoy  that ■" 

The  moment  had  come.     I  advanced  a  step  or  two. 

"  Why  not?"  I  said.     "  It  rests  entirely  with  yourself." 

She  started  and  half  rose  from  her  chair — her  work  dropped 
from  her  hands. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  conte?"  she  faltered,  half  timidly,  yet 
anxiously;  "  I  do  not  understand!" 

"  I  mean  what  I  say,"  I  continued  in  cool,  hard  tones,  and 
stooping,  I  picked  up  her  work  and  restored  it  to  her;  "but 
pray  do  not  excite  yourself !  You  say  yoii  can  not  always  en- 
joy my  protection ;  it  seems  to  me  that  you  can — by  becoming 
my  wife." 

"  Conte !"  she  stammered.  I  held  up  my  hand  as  a  sign  to 
her  to  be  silent. 

"  I  am  perfectly  aware,"  I  went  on  in  business-like  accents, 
— "  of  the  disparity  in  years  that  exists  between  us.  I  have 
neither  youth,  health,  nor  good  looks  to  recommend  me  to  you. 
Trouble  and  bitter  disappointment  have  made  me  what  I  am. 
But  I  have  wealth  which  is  almost  inexhaustible — I  have 
position  and  influence — and  besides  these  things" — and  here  I 
looked  at  her  steadily — "  I  have  an  ardent  desire  to  do  justice 
to  your  admirable  qualities,  and  to  give  you  all  you  deserve. 
If  you  think  you  could  be  happy  with  me,  speak  frankly — I 
can  not  offer  you  the  passionate  adoration  of  a  young  man — 
my  blood  is  cold  and  my  pulse  is  slow — but  what  I  can  do,  I 
will  !" 

Having  spoken  thus,  I  was  silent — gazing  at  her  intently. 
She  paled  and  flushed  alternately,  and  seemed  for  a  moment 
lost  in  thought — then  a  sudden  smile  of  triumph  curved  her 
mouth — she  raised  her  large  lovely  eyes  to  mine,  with  a  look 
of  melting  and  wistful  tenderness.  She  laid  her  needle-work 
gently  down,  and  came  close  up  to  me — her  fragrant  breath 
fell  warm  on  my  cheek — her  strange  gaze  fascinated  me,  and 
a  sort  of  tremor  shook  my  nerves. 

"  You  mean,"  she  said,  with  a  tender  pathos  in  her  voice, 
"  that  you  are  willing  to  marry  me,  but  that  you  do  not  really 
/ove  me?" 

And  almost  appealingly  she  laid  her  white  hand  on  my 
shoulder — her  musical  accents  were  low  and  thrilling — she 


vendetta!  171 

sighed  faintly.  I  was  silent — battling  violently  with  the  fool- 
ish desire  that  had  sprung  up  within  me,  the  desire  to  draw 
this  witching  fragile  thing  to  my  heart,  to  cover  her  lips  with 
kisses — to  startle  her  with  the  passion  of  my  embraces!  But 
I  forced  the  mad  impulse  down  and  stood  mute.  She  watched 
me — slowly  she  lifted  her  hand  from  where  it  had  rested,  and 
passed  it  with  a  caressing  touch  through  my  hair. 

"  No — you  do  not  really  love  me,"  she  whispered,  "  but  I  will 
tell  you  the  truth — I  love  you!" 

And  she  drew  herself  up  to  her  full  height  and  smiled  again 
as  she  uttered  the  lie.  I  knew  it  was  a  lie — but  I  seized  the 
hand  whose  caresses  stung  me,  and  held  it  hard,  as  I  answered : 

"  You  love  me?  No,  no — I  can  not  believe  it — it  is  impos- 
sible !" 

She  laughed  softly.  "  It  is  true  though,"  she  said,  em- 
phatically ;  "  the  very  first  time  I  saw  you  I  knew  I  should  love 
you!  I  never  even  liked  my  husband,  and  though  in  some 
things  you  resemble  him,  you  are  quite  different  in  others — 
and  superior  to  him  in  every  way.  Believe  it  or  not  as  you 
like,  you  are  the  only  man  in  all  the  world  I  have  ever  loved  I " 

And  she  made  the  assertion  unblushingly,  with  an  air  of 
conscious  pride  and  virtue.  Half  stupefied  at  her  manner,  I 
asked : 

"  Then  you  will  be  my  wife?" 

"  I  will !"  she  answered — "  and  tell  me — your  name  is  Cesare, 
is  it  not?" 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  mechanically. 

"Then,  Cesare,"  she  murmured,  tenderly,  "I  will  make  you 
love  me  very  much !" 

And  with  a  quick  lithe  movement  of  her  supple  figure,  she 
nestled  softly  against  me,  and  turned  up  her  radiant  glowing 
face. 

"  Kiss  me !"  she  said,  and  waited.  As  one  in  a  whirling 
dream,  I  stooped  and  kissed  those  false  sweet  lips!  I  would 
have  more  readily  placed  my  mouth  upon  that  of  a  poisonous 
serpent !  Yet  that  kiss  roused  a  sort  of  fury  in  me.  I  slipped 
my  arms  round  her  half-reclining  figure,  drew  her  gently 
backward  to  the  couch  she  had  left,  and  sat  down  beside  her, 
still  embracing  her.  "You  really  love  me?"  I  asked  almost 
fiercely. 

"Yes!" 

"  And  I  am  the  first  man  whom  you  have  really  cared  for?" 


172  vendetta! 

"  You  are !" 

"  You  never  liked  Ferrari?" 

"Never!" 

"  Did  he  ever  kiss  you  as  I  have  done?" 

"  Not  once !" 

God !  how  the  lies  poured  forth !  a  very  cascade  of  them ! 
and  they  were  all  told  with  such  an  air  of  truth !  I  marveled 
at  the  ease  and  rapidity  with  which  they  glided  off  this  fair 
woman's  tongue,  feeling  somewhat  the  same  sense  of  stupid 
astonishment  a  rustic  exhibits  when  he  sees  for  the  first  time 
a  conjurer  drawing  yards  and  yards  of  many-colored  ribbon 
out  of  his  mouth.  I  took  up  the  little  hand  on  which  the 
wedding-ring  /  had  placed  there  was  still  worn,  and  quietly 
slipped  upon  the  slim  finger  a  circlet  of  magnificent  rose- 
brilliants.  I  had  long  carried  this  trinket  about  with  me  in 
expectation  of  the  moment  that  had  now  come.  She  started 
from  my  arms  with  an  exclamation  of  delight. 

"  Oh,  Cesare !  how  lovely !     How  good  you  are  to  me !" 

And  leaning  toward  me,  she  kissed  me ;  then  resting  against 
my  shoulder,  she  held  up  her  hand  to  admire  the  flash  of  the 
diamonds  in  the  light.  Suddenly  she  said,  with  some  anxiety 
in  her  tone : 

"  You  will  not  tell  Guido?    Not  yet.?" 

"  No,"  I  answered;  "  I  certainly  will  not  tell  him  till  he  re- 
turns. Otherwise  he  would  leave  Rome  at  once,  and  we  do 
not  want  him  back  just  immediately,  do  we?"  And  I  toyed 
with  her  rippling  gold  tresses  half  mechanically,  while  I  won- 
dered within  myself  at  the  rapid  success  of  my  scheme.  She 
in  the  mean  time  grew  pensive  and  abstracted,  and  for  a  few 
moments  we  were  both  silent.  If  she  had  known !  I  thought, 
if  she  could  have  imagined  that  she  was  encircled  by  the  arm 
of  her  own  husband,  the  man  whom  she  had  duped  and 
wronged,  the  poor  fool  she  had  mocked  at  and  despised,  \Bhose 
life  had  been  an  obstruction  in  her  path,  whose  death  she  had 
been  glad  of! — would  she  have  smiled  so  sweetly?  Would 
she  have  kissed  me  then  ? 

*♦****♦ 

She  remained  leaning  against  me  in  a  reposeful  attitude  for 
some  moments,  ever  and  anon  turning  the  ring  I  had  given  her 
round  and  round  upon  her  finger.     By  and  by  she  looked  up. 

"  Will  you  do  me  one  favor?"  she  asked,  coaxingly ;  "  such 
a  little  thing — a  trifle!  but  it  would  give  me  such  pleasure!" 


vendetta!  173 

"What  is  it?"  Tasked;  "it  is  for  you  to  command  and  I  to 
obey !" 

"  Well,  take  off  those  dark  glasses  just  for  a  minute !  I 
want  to  see  your  eyes." 

I  rose  from  the  sofa  quickly,  and  answered  her  with  some 
coldness: 

"  Ask  anything  you  like  but  that,  ynia  bella.  The  least  light 
on  my  eyes  gives  me  the  most  acute  pain — pain  that  irritates 
my  nerves  for  hours  afterward.  Be  satisfied  with  me  as  I  am 
for  the  present,  though  I  promise  you  your  wish  shall  be 
gratified " 

"  When?"  she  interrupted  me  eagerly.  I  stooped  and  kissed 
her  hand. 

"  On  the  evening  of  our  marriage  day,"  I  answered. 

She  blushed  and  turned  away  her  head  coquettishly. 

"  Ah!  that  is  so  long  to  wait!"  she  said,  half  pettishly. 

"Not  very  long,  I  hope"  I  observed,  with  meaning  empha- 
sis. "  We  are  now  in  November.  May  I  ask  you  to  make  my 
suspense  brief — to  allow  me  to  fix  our  wedding  for  the  second 
month  of  the  new  year?" 

"  But  my  recent  widowhood! — Stella's  death!"  she  objected 
faintly,  pressing  a  perfumed  handkerchief  gently  to  her  eyes. 

"  In  February  your  husband  will  have  been  dead  nearly  six 
months,"  I  said,  decisively;  "it  is  quite  a  sufficient  period  of 
mourning  for  one  so  young  as  yourself.  And  the  loss  of  your 
child  so  increases  the  loneliness  of  your  situation  that  it  is 
natural,  even  necessary,  that  you  should  secure  a  protector  as 
soon  as  possible.  Society  will  not  censure  you,  you  may  be 
sure — besides,  /  shall  know  how  to  silence  any  gossip  that 
I  savors  of  impertinence." 

A  smile  of  conscious  triumph  parted  her  lips. 

"  It  shall  be  as  you  wish,"  she  said,  demurely;  "  if  you,  who 
are  known  in  Naples  as  one  who  is  perfectly  indifferent  to 
women,  like  now  to  figure  as  an  impadent  lover,  I  shall  not 
object!" 

And  she  gave  me  a  quick  glance  of  mischievous  amusement 
from  under  the  languid  lids  of  her  dreamy  dark  eyes.  I  saw 
it,  but  answered,  stiffly : 

"  You  are  aware,  contessa,  and  /  am  also  aware  that  I  am 
not  a  'lover'  according  to  the  accepted  type,  but  that  I  am 
impatient  I  readily  admit." 

"  And  why?"  she  asked. 


1 74  VENDETTA ! 

"  Because,"  I  replied,  speaking  slowly  and  emphatically,  "  I 
desire  you  to  be  mine  and  mine  only,  to  have  you  absolutely 
in  my  possession,  and  to  feel  that  no  one  can  come  between 
us,  or  interfere  with  my  wishes  concerning  you." 

She  laughed  gayly.  "  A  la  bonne  heure  !  You  are  a  lover 
without  knowing  it!  Your  dignity  will  not  allow  you  to 
believe  that  you  are  actually  in  love  with  me,  but  in  spite  of 
yourself  you  are — you  know  you  are !" 

I  stood  before  her  in  almost  somber  silence.  At  last  I  said: 
"  If  you  say  so,  contessa,  then  it  must  be  so.  I  have  had  no 
experience  in  affairs  of  the  heart,  as  they  are  called,  and  I  find 
it  difficult  to  give  a  name  to  the  feelings  which  possess  me;  I 
am  only  conscious  of  a  very  strong  wish  to  become  the  abso- 
lute master  of  your  destiny."  And  involuntarily  I  ^clinched 
my  hand  as  I  spoke.  She  did  not  observe  the  action,  but  she 
answered  the  words  with  a  graceful  bend  of  the  head  and  a 
smile, 

"  I  could  not  have  a  better  fortune,"  she  said,  "  for  I  am  sure 
my  destiny  will  be  all  brightness  and  beauty  with>'<?«  to  con- 
trol and  guide  it !" 

"  It  will  be  what  you  desire,"  I  half  muttered;  then  with  an 
abrupt  change  of  manner  I  said :  "  I  will  wish  you  good-night, 
contessa.  It  grows  late,  and  my  state  of  health  compels  me 
to  retire  to  rest  early." 

She  rose  from  her  seat  and  gave  me  a  compassionate  look. 

"  You  are  really  a  great  sufferer  then.?"  she  inquired  ten- 
derly. "  I  am  sorry !  But  perhaps  careful  nursing  will  quite 
restore  you.  I  shall  be  so  proud  if  I  can  help  you  to  secure 
better  health." 

"  Rest  and  happiness  will  no  doubt  do  much  for  me,"  I  an- 
swered; "still  I  warn  you,  cara  niia,  that  in  accepting  me  as 
your  husband  you  take  a  broken-down  man,  one  whose  whims 
are  legion  and  whose  chronic  state  of  invalidism  may  in  time 
prove  to  be  a  burden  on  your  young  life.  Are  you  .sure  your 
decision  is  a  wise  one?" 

"  Quite  sure !"  she  replied  firmly.  "  Do  I  not  love  you?  And 
you  will  not  always  be  ailing — you  look  so  strong." 

"I  am  strong  to  a  certain  extent,"  I  said,  unconsciously 
straightening  myself  as  I  stood.  "  I  have  plenty  of  muscle  as 
far  as  that  goes,  but  my  nervous  system  is  completely  dis- 
organized.    I — why,  what  is  the  matter?    Are  you  ill?" 

For  she  had  turned  deathly  pale,  and    her   eyes   looked 


vendetta!  175 

startled  and  terrified.  Thinkinpf  she  would  faint,  I  extended 
my  arms  to  save  her  from  falling,  but  she  put  them  aside  with 
an  alarmed  yet  appealing  gesture. 

"  It  is  nothing,"  she  murmured  feebly,  "  a  sudden  giddiness 
— I  thought — no  matter  what!  Tell  me,  are  you  not  related 
to  the  Romani  family?  When  you  drew  yourself  up  just  now 
you  were  so  like — like  Fabio  ! — I  fancied,"  and  she  shuddered, 
"  that  I  saw  his  ghost !"' 

I  supported  her  to  a  chair  near  the  window,  which  I  threw 
open  for  air,  though  the  evening  was  cold. 

"  You  are  fatigued  and  over-excited,"  I  said  calmly,  "  your 
nature  is  too  imaginative.  No ;  I  am  not  related  to  the  Ro- 
manis,  though  possibly  I  may  have  some  of  their  mannerisms. 
Many  men  are  alike  in  these  things.  But  you  must  not  give 
way  to  such  fancies.  Rest  perfectly  quiet;  you  will  soon 
recover." 

And  pouring  out  a  glass  of  water  I  handed  it  to  her.  She 
sipped  it  slowly,  leaning  back  in  the  fauteuil  where  I  had 
placed  her,  and  in  silence  we  both  looked  out  on  the  Novem- 
ber night.  There  was  a  moon,  but  she  was  veiled  by  driving 
clouds,  which  ever  and  anon  swept  asunder  to  show  her  gleam- 
ing pallidly  white,  like  the  restless  spirit  of  a  deceived  and 
murdered  lady.  A  rising  wind  moaned  dismally  among  the 
fading  creepers  and  rustled  the  heavy  branches  of  a  giant 
cypress  that  stood  on  the  lawn  like  a  huge  spectral  mourner 
draped  in  black,  apparently  waiting  for  a  forest  funeral. 
Now  and  then  a  few  big  drops  of  rain  fell — sudden  tears 
wrung  as  though  by  force  from  the  black  heart  of  the  sky.  My 
wife  shivered. 

"  Shut  the  window !"  she  said,  glancing  back  at  me  where 
I  stood  behind  her  chair.  "  I  am  much  better  now,  I  was 
very  silly.  I  do  not  know  what  came  over  me,  but  for  the 
moment  I  felt  afraid — horribly  afraid! — oiyou .'" 

"  That  was  not  complimentary  to  your  future  husband,"  I 
remarked,  quietly,  as  I  closed  and  fastened  the  window  in 
obedience  to  her  request.  "  Should  I  not  insist  upon  an 
apology?" 

She  laughed  nervously,  and  played  with  her  ring  of  rose- 
brilliants. 

"  It  is  not  yet  too  late,"  I  resumed;  "  if  on  second  thoughts 
you  would  rather  not  marry  me.  you  have  only  to  say  so.  I 
shall  accept  my  fate  with  equanimity,  and  shall  not  blame  you." 


176  vendetta!  ' 

At  this  she  seemed  quite  alarmed,  and  rising,  laid  her  hand 
pleadingly  on  my  arm. 

"  Surely  you  are  not  offended?"  she  said,  "  I  was  not  really 
afraid  of  you,  you  know — it  was  a  stupid  fancy — I  cannot 
explain  it.  But  I  am  quite  well  now,  and  I  am  only  too  happy. 
Why,  I  would  not  lose  your  love  for  all  the  world — you  must 
believe  me!" 

And  she  touched  my  hand  caressingly  with  her  lips.  I 
withdrew  it  gently,  and  stroked  her  hair  with  an  almost 
parental  tenderness ;  then  I  said  quietly : 

"  If  so,  we  are  agreed,  and  all  is  well.  Let  me  advise 
you  to  take  a  long  night's  rest;  your  nerves  are  weak  and 
somewhat  shaken.  You  wish  me  to  keep  our  engagement 
secret?" 

She  thought  for  a  moment,  then  answered  musingly: 

"  For  the  present  perhaps  it  would  be  best.  Though,"  and 
she  laughed,  "  it  would  be  delightful  to  see  all  the  other  women 
jealous  and  envious  of  my  good  fortune !  Still,  if  the  news 
were  told  to  any  of  our  friends — who  knows? — it  might  acci- 
dentally reach  Guido,  and " 

"  I  understand !  You  may  rely  upon  my  discretion.  Good- 
night, contessa!" 

"  You  may  call  me  Nina,"  she  murmured,  softly. 

"Nina,  then,"  I  said,  with  some  effort,  as  I  lightly  kissed 
her.  "  Good-night ! — may  your  dreams  be  of  me !"  She  re- 
sponded to  this  with  a  gratified  smile,  and  as  I  left  the  room 
she  waved  her  hand  in  a  parting  salute.  My  diamonds  flashed 
on  it  like  a  small  circlet  of  fire ;  the  light  shed  through  the 
rose-colored  lamps  that  hung  from  the  painted  ceiling  fell  full 
on  her  exquisite  loveliness,  softening  it  into  ethereal  radiance 
and  delicacy,  and  when  I  strode  forth  from  the  house  into  the 
night  air  heavy  with  the  threatening  gloom  of  coming  tempest, 
the  picture  of  that  fair  face  and  form  flitted  before  me  like  a 
mirage — the  glitter  of  her  hair  flashed  on  my  vision  like  little 
snakes  of  fire — her  lithe  hands  seemed  to  beckon  me — her  lips 
had  left  a  scorching  heat  on  mine.  Distracted  with  the 
thoughts  that  tortured  me,  I  walked  on  and  on  for  hours.  The 
storm  broke  at  last;  the  rain  poured  in  torrents,  but  heedless 
of  wind  and  weather,  I  wandered  on  like  a  forsaken  fugitive. 
I  seemed  to  be  the  only  human  being  left  alive  in  a  world  of 
wrath  and  darkness.  The  rush  and  roar  of  the  blast,  the  angry 
noise  of  waves  breaking  hurriedly  on  the  shore,  the  swirling 


vendetta!  177 

showers  that  fell  on  my  defenseless  head — all  these  things 
were  unfelt,  unheard  by  me.  There  are  times  in  a  man's  life 
when  mere  physical  feeling  grows  numb  under  the  pressure 
of  intense  mental  agony — when  the  indignant  soul,  smarting 
with  the  experience  of  some  vile  injustice,  forgets  for  a  little 
its  narrow  and  poor  house  of  clay.  Some  such  mood  was  upon 
me  then,  I  suppose,  for  in  the  very  act  of  walking  I  was  almost 
unconscious  of  movement.  An  awful  solitude  seemed  to  en- 
compass me — a  silence  of  my  own  creating.  I  fancied  that 
even  the  angry  elements  avoided  me  as  I  passed;  that  there 
was  nothing,  nothing  in  all  the  wide  universe  but  myself  and 
a  dark  brooding  horror  called  Vengeance.  All  suddenly,  the 
mists  of  my  mind  cleared;  I  moved  no  longer  in  a  deaf,  blind 
stupor.  A  flash  of  lightning  danced  vividly  before  my  eyes, 
followed  by  a  crashing  peal  of  thunder ;  I  saw  to  what  end  of 
a  wild  journey  I  had  come!  Those  heavy  gates — that  un- 
defined stretch  of  land — those  ghostly  glimmers  of  motionless 
white  like  spectral  mile-stones  emerging  from  the  gloom — I 
knew  it  all  too  well — it  was  the  cemetery !  I  looked  through 
the  iron  palisades  with  the  feverish  interest  of  one  who 
v/atches  the  stage  curtain  rise  on  the  last  scene  of  a  tragedy. 
The  lightning  sprung  once  more  across  the  sky,  and  showed 
me  for  a  brief  second  the  distant  marble  outline  of  the  Romani 
vault.  There  the  drama  began — where  would  it  end?  Slowly, 
slowly  there  flitted  into  my  thoughts  the  face  of  my  lost  child 
— the  young,  serious  face  as  it  had  looked  when  the  calm, 
pretematurally  wise  smile  of  Death  had  rested  upon  it ;  and 
then  a  curious  feeling  of  pity  possessed  me — pity  that  her  lit- 
tle body  should  be  lying  stiffly  out  there,  not  in  the  vault,  but 
tinder  the  wet  sod,  in  such  a  relentless  storm  of  rain.  I 
wanted  to  take  her  up  from  that  cold  couch — to  carry  her  to 
some  home  where  there  should  be  light  and  heat  and  laughter 
— to  warm  her  to  life  again  within  my  arms ;  and  as  my  brain 
played  with  these  foolish  fancies,  slow  hot  tears  forced  them- 
selves into  my  eyes  and  scalded  my  cheeks  as  they  fell. 
These  tears  relieved  me— gradually  the  tightly  strung  tension 
of  my  nerves  relaxed,  and  I  recovered  my  usual  composure  by 
degrees.  I'uming  deliberately  away  from  the  beckoning 
g^ave-stones,  I  walked  back  to  the  city  through  the  thick  of 
the  storm,  this  time  with  an  assured  step  and  a  knowledge 
of  where  I  was  going.  I  did  not  reach  ray  hotel  till  past  mid- 
night ;   but  this  was  not  late  for  Naples,  and  the  curiosity  of 


178  vendetta! 

the  fat  French  hall-porter  was  not  so  much  excited  by  the 
lateness  of  my  arrival  as  by  the  disorder  of  my  apparel. 

"Ah,  heaven!"  he  cried;  "  that  monsieur  the  distinguished 
should  have  been  in  such  a  storm  all  unprotected !  Why  did 
not  monsieur  send  for  his  carriage?"  I  cut  short  his  exclama- 
tions by  dropping  five  francs  into  his  ever-ready  hand,  assur- 
ing him  that  I  had  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  novelty  of  a  walk 
in  bad  weather,  whereat  he  smiled  and  congratulated  me  as 
much  as  he  had  just  commiserated  me.  On  reaching  my  own 
rooms,  my  valet  Vincenzo  stared  at  my  dripping  and  dishev- 
eled condition,  but  was  discreetly  mute.  He  quickly  assisted 
me  to  change  my  wet  clothes  for  a  warm  dressing-gown,  and 
then  brought  a  glass  of  mulled  port  wine,  but  performed  these 
duties  with  such  an  air  of  unbroken  gravity  that  I  was  in- 
wardly amused  while  I  admired  the  fellow's  reticence.  When 
I  was  about  to  retire  for  the  night,  I  tossed  him  a  napoleon. 
He  eyed  it  musingly  and  inquiringly ;  then  he  asked : 
"  Your  excellency  desires  to  purchase  something?" 
"  Your  silence,  my  friend,  that  is  all !"  I  replied,  with  a 
laugh.  "  Understand  me,  Vincenzo,  you  will  serve  yourself 
and  me  best  by  obeying  implicitly,  and  asking  no  questions. 
Fortunate  is  the  servant  who,  accustomed  to  see  his  master 
drunk  every  night,  swears  to  all  outsiders  that  he  has  never 
served  so  sober  and  discreet  a  gentleman !  That  is  your  char- 
acter, Vincenzo — keep  to  it,  and  we  shall  not  quarrel."  He 
smiled  gravely,  and  pocketed  my  piece  of  gold  without  a  word 
— like  a  true  Tuscan  as  he  was.  The  sentimental  servant, 
whose  fine  feelings  will  not  allow  him  to  accept  an  extra  "  tip," 
is,  you  may  be  sure,  a  humbug.  I  never  believed  in  such  a 
one.  Labor  can  always  command  its  price,  and  what  so  labori- 
ous in  this  age  as  to  be  honest?  What  so  difficult  as  to  keep 
silence  on  other  people's  affairs?  Such  herculean  tasks  de- 
serve payment!  A  valet  who  is  generously  bribed,  in  ad- 
dition to  his  wages,  can  be  relied  on ;  if  underpaid,  all  heaven 
and  earth  will  not  persuade  him  to  hold  his  tongue.  Left 
alone  at  last  in  my  sleeping  chamber,  I  remained  for  some 
time  before  actually  going  to  bed.  I  took  off  the  black  spec- 
tacles which  served  me  so  well,  and  looked  at  myself  in  the 
mirror  with  some  curiosity.  I  never  permitted  Vincenzo  to 
enter  my  bedroom  at  night,  or  before  I  was  dressed  in  the 
morning,  lest  he  should  surprise  me  without  these  appendages, 
which  were  my  chief  disguise,  for  in  such  a  case  I  fancy  even 


vendetta!  179 

his  studied  composure  would  have  given  way.  For,  disbur- 
dened of  my  smoke-colored  glasses,  I  appeared  what  I  was, 
young  and  vigorous  in  spite  of  my  white  beard  and  hair.  My 
face,  which  had  been  worn  and  haggard  at  first,  had  filled  up 
and  was  healthily  colored;  while  my  eyes,  the  spokesmen  of 
my  thoughts,  were  bright  with  the  clearness  and  fire  of  con- 
stitutional strength  and  physical  well-being.  I  wondered,  as 
I  stared  moodily  at  my  own  reflection,  how  it  was  that  I  did 
not  look  ill.  The  mental  suffering  I  continually  underwent, 
mingled  though  it  was  with  a  certain  gloomy  satisfaction, 
should  surely  have  left  more  indelible  traces  on  my  counte- 
nance. Yet  it  has  been  proved  that  it  is  not  always  the 
hollow-eyed,  sallow  and  despairing-looking  persons  who  are 
really  in  sharp  trouble — these  are  more  often  bilious  or  dys- 
peptic, and  know  no  more  serious  grief  than  the  incapacity  to 
gratify  their  appetites  for  the  high-flavored  delicacies  of  the 
table.  A  man  may  be  endowed  with  superb  physique,  and  a 
constitution  that  is  in  perfect  working  order — his  face  and 
outward  appearance  may  denote  the  most  harmonious  action 
of  the  life  principle  within  him — and  yet  his  nerves  may  be 
so  finely  strung  that  he  may  be  capable  of  suffering  acuter 
agony  in  his  mind  than  if  his  body  were  to  be  hacked  slowly 
to  pieces  by  jagged  knives,  and  it  will  leave  no  mark  on  his 
features  while  you f/i  still  has  hold  on  his  flesh  and  blood. 

So  it  was  with  me ;  and  I  wondered  what  s/ie — Nina — would 
say,  could  she  behold  me,  unmasked  as  it  were,  in  the  solitude 
of  my  own  room.  This  thought  roused  another  in  my  mind — 
another  at  which  I  smiled  grimly.  /  was  an  engaged  man! 
Engaged  to  marry  my  own  wife ;  betrothed  for  the  second 
time  to  the  same  woman !  What  a  difference  between  this  and 
my  first  courtship  of  her!  Theti,  who  so  great  a  fool  as  I — 
who  so  adoring,  passionate  and  devoted?  Now,  who  so  darkly 
instructed,  who  so  cold,  so  absolutely  pitiless?  The  climax  to 
my  revenge  was  nearly  reached.  I  looked  through  the  coming 
days  as  one  looks  through  a  telescope  out  to  sea,  and  I  could 
watch  the  end  approaching  like  a  phantom  ship — neither  slow 
nor  fast,  but  steadily  and  silently.  I  was  able  to  calculate 
each  event  in  its  due  order,  and  I  knew  there  was  no  fear  of 
failure  in  the  final  result.  Nature  itself — the  sun,  moon  and 
stars,  the  sweeping  circle  of  the  seasons — all  seem  to  aid  in 
the  cause  of  rightful  justice.  Man's  duplicity  may  succeed  in 
withholding  a  truth  for  a  time,  but  in  the  end  it  must  win  its 


l8o  VENDETTA I 

way.  Once  resolve,  and  then  determine  to  carry  out  that  re- 
solve, and  it  is  astonishing  to  note  with  what  marvelous  ease 
everything  makes  way  for  you,  provided  there  be  no  innate 
weakness  in  yourself  which  causes  you  to  hesitate.  I  had 
formerly  been  weak,  I  knew — very  weak — else  I  had  never  been 
fooled  by  wife  and  friend ;  but  now — now  my  strength  was  as 
the  strength  of  a  demon  working  within  me.  My  hand  had 
already  closed  with  an  iron  grip  on  two  false,  unworthy  lives, 
and  had  I  not  sworn  "  never  to  relax,  never  to  relent,"  till  my 
vengeance  was  accomplished?  I  had !  Heaven  and  earth  had 
borne  witness  to  my  vow,  and  now  held  me  to  its  stem 
fulfillment. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Winter,  or  what  the  Neapolitans  accept  as  winter,  came  on 
apace.  For  some  time  past  the  air  had  been  full  of  that  mild 
chill  and  vaporous  murkiness,  which,  not  cold  enough  to  be 
bracing,  sensibly  lowered  the  system  and  depressed  the  spirits. 
The  careless  and  jovial  temperament  of  the  people,  however, 
was  never  much  affected  by  the  change  of  seasons — they  drank 
more  hot  coffee  than  usual,  and  kept  their  feet  warm  by  danc- 
ing from  midnight  up  to  the  small  hours  of  the  morning.  The 
cholera  was  a  thing  of  the  past — the  cleansing  of  the  city,  the 
sanitary  precautions  v/hich  had  been  so  much  talked  about 
and  recommended  in  order  to  prevent  another  outbreak  in  the 
coming  year,  were  all  forgotten  and  neglected,  and  the  laugh- 
ing populace  tripped  lightly  over  the  graves  of  its  dead  hun- 
dreds as  though  they  were  odorous  banks  of  flowers.  "  Oggi! 
Oggi !"  is  their  cry — to-day,  to-day!  Never  mind  what  hap- 
pened yesterday,  or  what  will  happen  to-morrow — leave  that 
to  /  slgnori  Santi  and  la  Signora  Madonna  !  And  after  all  there 
is  a  grain  of  reason  in  their  folly,  for  many  of  the  bitterest 
miseries  of  man  grow  out  of  a  fatal  habit  of  looking  back  or 
looking  forward,  and  of  never  living  actually  in  the  full-faced 
present.  Then,  too.  Carnival  was  approaching;  Carnival, 
which,  though  denuded  of  many  of  its  best  and  brightest 
features,  still  reels  through  the  streets  of  Naples  with  some- 
thing of  the  picturesque  madness  that  in  old  times  used  to 
accompany  its  prototype,  the  Feast  of  Bacchus.  I  was  re- 
minded of  this  coming  festivity  on  the  morning  of  thje  21st  of 


vendetta!  i8i 

December,  when  I  noted  some  unusual  attempts  on  the  part 
of  Vincenzo  to  control  his  countenance,  that  often,  in  spite  of 
his  efforts,  broadened  into  a  sunny  smile  as  though  some 
humorous  thought  had  flitted  across  his  mind.  He  betrayed 
himself  at  last  by  asking  me  demurely  whether  I  purposed 
taking  any  part  in  the  carnival?  I  smiled  and  shook  my  head. 
Vincenzo  looked  dubious,  but  finally  summoned  up  courage  to 
say: 

"  Will  the  eccellenza  permit " 

"  You  to  make  a  fool  of  yourself?"  I  interrupted.  "  By  all 
means!  Take  your  own  time,  enjoy  the  fun  as  much  as  you 
please;  I  promise  you  I  will  ask  no  account  of  your  actions." 

He  was  much  gratified,  and  attended  to  me  with  even  more 
punctiliousness  than  usual.  As  he  prepared  my  breakfast  I 
asked  him : 

"  By  the  way,  when  does  the  carnival  begin?" 

"  On  the  26th,"  he  answered,  with  a  slight  air  of  surprise. 
"  Surely  the  eccellenza  knows." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  I  said,  impatiently.  "  I  know,  but  I  had  forgot- 
ten. I  am  not  young  enough  to  keep  the  dates  of  these  follies 
in  my  memory.     What  letters  have  you  there?" 

He  handed  me  a  small  tray  full  of  different  shaped  missives, 
some  from  fair  ladies  who  "  desired  the  honor  of  my  company," 
others  from  tradesmen,  "  praying  the  honor  of  my  custom  " — all 
from  male  and  female  toadies  as  usual,  I  thought  contemptu- 
ously, as  I  turned  them  over,  when  my  glance  was  suddenly 
arrested  by  one  special  envelope,  square  in  form  and  heavily 
bordered  with  black,  on  which  the  postmark  "  Roma"  stood 
out  distinctly.  "At  last!"  I  thought,  and  breathed  heavily. 
I  turned  to  my  valet,  who  was  giving  the  final  polish  to  my 
breakfast  cup  and  saucer : 

"  You  may  leave  the  room,  Vincenzo,"  I  said,  briefly.  He 
bowed,  the  door  opened  and  shut  noiselessly — he  was  gone. 

Slowly  I  broke  the  seal  of  that  fateful  letter;  a  letter  from 
Guido  Ferrari,  a  warrant  self-signed,  for  his  own  execution ! 

" My  best  Friend,"  so  it  ran,  "you  will  guess  by  the  'black 
flag'  on  my  envelope  the  good  news  I  have  to  give  you.  My 
uncle  is  dead  at  last,  thank  God !  and  I  am  left  his  sole  heir 
unconditionally.  I  am  free,  and  shall  of  course  return  to 
Naples  immediately — that  is,  as  soon  as  some  trifling  law  bus- 
iness has  been  got  throucjh  with  the  executors.     I  believe  J 


i82  VENDETTA! 

can  arrange  my  return  for  the  23d  or  24th  instant,  but  will 
telegraph  to  you  the  exact  day,  and,  if  possible,  the  exact 
hour.  Will  3'ou  oblige  me  by  not  announcing  this  to  the  count- 
ess, as  I  wish  to  take  her  by  surprise  ?  Poor  girl !  she  will 
have  often  felt  lonely,  I  am  sure,  and  I  want  to  see  the  first 
beautiful  look  of  rapture  and  astonishment  in  her  eyes  !  You 
can  understand  this,  can  you  not,  amico,  or  does  it  seem  to  you 
a  folly?  At  any  rate,  I  should  consider  it  very  churlish  were 
I  to  keep  you  in  ignorance  of  my  coming  home,  and  I  know 
you  will  humor  me  in  my  desire  that  the  news  should  be 
withheld  from  Nina.  How  delighted  she  will  be,  and  what  a 
jo3^ous  carnival  we  will  have  this  winter  !  I  do  not  think  I 
ever  felt  more  light  of  heart ;  perhaps  it  is  because  I  am  so 
much  heavier  in  pocket.  I  am  glad  of  the  money,  as  it  places 
me  on  a  more  equal  footing  with  her,  and  though  all  her  let- 
ters to  me  have  been  full  of  the  utmost  tenderness,  still  I  feel 
she' will  think  even  better  of  me  now  I  am  in  a  position  some- 
what nearer  to  her  own.  As  for  you,  my  good  conte,  on  my 
return  I  shall  make  it  my  first  duty  to  pay  back  with  interest 
the  rather  large  debt  I  owe  to  you — thus  my  honor  will  be 
satisfied,  and  you,  I  am  sure,  will  have  a  better  opinion  of 

"Yours  to  command, 

"GuiDo  Ferrari." 

This  was  the  letter,  and  I  read  it  over  and  over  again. 
Some  of  the  words  burned  themselves  into  my  memory  as 
though  they  were  living  flame.  ''All  of  her  letters  to  me  have 
been  fill  of  the  utmost  tenderness  !  "  O,  miserable  dupe  !  fooled, 
fooled  to  the  acme  of  folly  even  as  I  had  been  !  Shc^  the  arch- 
traitress,  to  prevent  his  entertaining  the  slightest  possible 
suspicion  or  jealousy  of  her  actions  during  his  absence,  had 
written  him,  no  doubt,  epistles  sweet  as  honey,  brimming 
over  with  endearing  epithets  and  vows  of  constancy,  even 
while  she  knew  she  had  accepted  me  as  her  husband — me — 
good  God  !    What  a  devil's  dance  of  death  it  was  ! 

"  On  viy  return  I  shall  make  it  my  first  duty  to  pay  back  with 
interest  the  rather  large  debt  I  owe  you''  (rather  large,  indeed, 
Guido,  so  large  that  you  have  no  idea  of  its  extent !),  "  thus  my 
honor  will  be  satisfied''  (and  so  will  mine  in  part),  '^  ajidyou,  I 
am  stire,  will  have  a  better  opinion  ofyotirs  to  comrtiafid. ' '  Perhaps 
I  shall,  Guido,  mine  to  command  as  you  are — perhaps  when 
all  my  commands  are  fulfilled  to  the  bitter  end,  I  may  think 


vendetta!  183 

more  kindly  of  you.  But  not  till  then!  In  the  mean  time — I 
thought  earnestly  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  sitting  down,  I 
penned  the  following  note  : 

"  Caro  amico !  Delighted  to  hear  of  your  good  fortune,  and 
still  more  enchanted  to  know  you  will  soon  enliven  us  all  with 
your  presence!  I  admire  your  little  plan  of  surprising  the 
countess,  and  will  respect  your  wishes  in  the  matter.  But 
you,  on  your  part,  must  do  me  a  trifling  favor :  we  have  been  • 
very  dull  since  you  left,  and  I  propose  to  start  the  gayeties 
afresh  by  giving  a  dinner  on  the  24th  (Christmas  Eve),  in 
honor  of  your  return — an  epicurean  repast  for  gentlemen 
only.  Therefore,  I  ask  you  to  oblige  me  by  fixing  your  return 
for  that  day,  and  on  arrival  at  Naples  come  straight  to  me  at 
this  hotel,  that  I  may  have  the  satisfaction  of  being  the  first 
to  welcome  you  as  you  deserve.  Telegraph  your  answer,  and 
the  hour  of  your  train ;  and  my  carriage  shall  meet  you  at  the 
station.  The  dinner-hour  can  be  fixed  to  suit  your  con- 
venience of  course ;  what  say  you  to  eight  o'clock?  After 
dinner  you  can  betake  yourself  to  the  Villa  Romani  when  you 
please — your  enjoyment  of  the  lady's  surprise  and  rapture 
will  be  the  more  keen  for  having  been  slightly  delayed. 
Trusting  you  will  not  refuse  to  gratify  an  old  man's  whim, 
I  am  Yours  for  the  time  being, 

"  Cesare  Oliva." 

This  epistle  finished  and  written  in  the  crabbed  disguised 
penmanship  it  was  part  of  my  business  to  afiEect,  I  folded, 
sealed  and  addressed  it,  and  summoning  Vincenzo,  bade  him 
post  it  immediately.  As  soon  as  he  had  gone  on  this  errand, 
I  sat  down  to  my  as  yet  untasted  breakfast  and  made  some 
effort  to  eat  as  usual.  But  my  thoughts  were  too  active  for 
appetite — I  counted  on  my  fingers  the  days — there  were  four, 
only  four,  between  me  and — what?  One  thing  was  certain — I 
must  see  my  wife,  or  rather  I  should  say  my  betrothed — I  must 
see  her  that  very  day.  I  then  began  to  consider  how  my 
courtship  had  progressed  since  that  evening  when  she  declared 
she  loved  me.  I  had  seen  her  frequently,  though  not  daily — 
her  behavior  had  been  by  turns  affectionate,  adoring,  timid, 
gracious,  and  once  or  twice  passionately  loving,  though  the 
latter  impulse  in  her  I  had  always  coldly  checked.  For 
though  I  could  bear  a  great  deal,  any  outburst  of  sham  senti- 
ment on  her  part  sickened  and  filled  me  with  such  utter  loath- 


1 84  vendetta! 

ing  that  often  when  she  was  more  than  usually  tender  I 
dreaded  lest  my  pent-up  wrath  should  break  loose  and  impel 
me  to  kill  her  swiftly  and  suddenly  as  one  crushes  the  head  of 
a  poisonous  adder — an  all-too-merciful  death  for  such  as  she. 
I  preferred  to  woo  her  by  gifts  alone — and  her  hands  were 
always  ready  to  take  whatever  I  or  others  chose  to  offer  her. 
From  a  rare  jewel  to  a  common  flower  she  never  refused  any- 
thing— her  strongest  passions  were  vanity  and  avarice.  Spark- 
ling gems  from  the  pilfered  store  of  Carmelo  Neri — trinkets 
which  I  had  especially  designed  for  her — lace,  rich  embroid- 
eries, bouquets  of  hot-house  blossoms,  gilded  boxes  of  costly 
sweets — nothing  came  amiss  to  her — she  accepted  all  with  a 
certain  covetous  glee  which  she  was  at  no  pains  to  hide  from 
me — nay,  she  made  it  rather  evident  that  she  expected  such 
things  as  her  right. 

And  after  all,  what  did  it  matter  to  me,  I  thought — of  what 
value  was  anything  I  possessed  save  to  assist  me  in  carrying 
out  the  punishment  I  had  destined  for  her?  I  studied  her 
nature  with  critical  coldness — I  saw  its  inbred  vice  artfully 
concealed  beneath  the  affectation  of  virtue — every  day  she 
sunk  lower  in  my  eyes,  and  I  wondered  vaguely  how  I  could 
ever  have  loved  so  coarse  and  common  a  thing!  Lovely  she 
certainly  was — lovely  too  are  many  of  the  wretched  outcasts 
who  sell  themselves  in  the  streets  for  gold,  and  who  in  spite 
of  their  criminal  trade  are  less  vile  than  such  a  woman  as  the 
one  I  had  wedded.  Mere  beauty  of  face  and  form  can  be 
bought  as  easily  as  one  buys  a  flower — but  the  loyal  heart,  the 
pure  soul,  the  lofty  intelligence  which  can  make  of  woman  an 
angel — these  are  unpurchasable  wares,  and  seldom  fall  to  the 
lot  of  man.  For  beauty,  though  so  perishable,  is  a  snare  to 
us  all — it  maddens  our  blood  in  spite  of  ourselves — we  men 
are  made  so.  How  was  it  that  I — even  I,  who  now  loathed 
the  creature  I  had  once  loved — could  not  look  upon  her  physi- 
cal loveliness  without  a  foolish  thrill  of  passion  awaking 
within  me — passion  that  had  something  of  the  murderous  in 
it — admiration  that  was  almost  brutal — feelings  which  I  could 
not  control,  though  I  despised  myself  for  them  while  they 
lasted!  There  is  a  weak  point  in  the  strongest  of  us,  and 
wicked  women  know  well  where  we  are  most  vulnerable. 
One  dainty  pin-prick  well-aimed — and  all  the  barriers  of 
caution  and  reserve  are  broken  down — we  are  ready  to  fling 
away  our  souls  for  a  smile  or  a  kiss.     Surely  at  the  last  day 


VENDETTA?  I 85 

when  we  are  judged — and  may  be  condemned — we  can  make 
our  last  excuse  to  the  Creator  in  the  words  of  the  first  mis- 
guided man : 

"  The  woman  whom  thou  gavest  to  be  with  me — she  tempted 
me,  and  I  did  eat!" 

I  lost  no  time  that  day  in  going  to  the  Villa  Romani.  I 
drove  there  in  my  carriage,  taking  with  me  the  usual  love- 
offering  in  the  shape  of  a  large  gilded  osier-basket  full  of 
white  violets.  Their  delicious  odor  reminded  me  of  that  May 
morning  when  Stella  was  born — and  then  quickly  there  flashed 
into  my  mind  the  words  spoken  by  Guido  Ferrari  at  the  time. 
How  mysterious  they  had  seemed  to  me  then — how  clear  their 
meaning  now !  On  arriving  at  the  villa  I  found  my  fimicie  in 
her  own  boudoir,  attired  in  morning  deshabille,  if  a  trailing 
robe  of  white  cashmere  trimmed  with  Mechlin  lace  and  swan's- 
down  can  be  considered  deshabille.  Her  rich  hair  hung  loosely 
on  her  shoulders,  and  she  was  seated  in  a  velvet  easy-chair 
before  a  small  sparkling  wood  fire,  reading.  Her  attitude  was 
one  of  luxurious  ease  and  grace,  but  she  sprung  up  as  soon  as 
her  maid  announced  me,  and  came  forward  with  her  usual 
charming  air  of  welcome,  in  which  there  was  something  im- 
perial, as  of  a  sovereign  who  receives  a  subject.  I  presented 
the  flowers  I  had  brought,  with  a  few  words  of  studied  and 
formal  compliment,  uttered  for  the  benefit  of  the  servant  who 
lingered  in  the  room — then  I  added  in  a  lower  tone : 

"  I  have  news  of  importance  —  can  I  speak  to  you  pri- 
vately?" 

She  smiled  assent,  and  motioning  me  by  a  graceful  gesture 
of  her  hand  to  take  a  seat,  she  at  once  dimissed  her  maid.  As 
soon  as  the  door  had  closed  behind  the  girl  I  spoke  at  once  and 
to  the  point,  scarcely  waiting  till  my  wife  resumed  her  easy- 
chair  before  the  fire. 

"  I  have  had  a  letter  from  Signor  Ferrari." 

She  started  slightly,  but  said  nothing,  she  merely  bowed 
her  head  and  raised  her  delicately  arched  eyebrows  with  a 
look  of  inquiry  as  of  one  who  should  say,  "  Indeed!  in  what 
way  does  this  concern  me?"  I  watched  her  narrowly,  and  then 
continued,  "  He  is  coming  back  in  two  or  three  days — he  says 
he  is  sure,"  and  here  I  smiled,  "  that  you  will  be  delighted  to 
see  him." 

This  time  she  half  rose  from  her  seat,  her  lips  moved  as 
though  she  would  speak,  but  she  remained  silent,  and  sinking 


1 86  vendetta! 

back  again  among  her  violet  velvet  cushions,  she  grew  very 
pale. 

"  If,"  I  went  on,  "  you  have  any  reason  to  think  that  he  may 
make  himself  disagreeable  to  you  when  he  knows  of  your  en- 
gagement to  me,  out  of  disappointed  ambition,  conceit,  or 
self-interest  (for  of  course  you  never  encouraged  him),  I  should 
advise  you  to  go  on  a  visit  to  some  friends  for  a  few  days,  till 
his  irritation  shall  have  somewhat  passed.  What  say  you  to 
such  a  plan?" 

She  appeared  to  meditate  for  a  few  moments — then  raising 
her  lovely  eyes  with  a  wistful  and  submissive  look,  she 
replied : 

"  It  shall  be  as  you  wish,  Cesare !  Signer  Ferrari  is  cer- 
tainly rash  and  hot-tempered;  he  might  be  presumptuous 
enough  to —  But  you  do  not  think  of  yourself  in  the  matter! 
Surely  you  also  are  in  danger  of  being  insulted  by  him  when 
he  knows  all." 

"  I  shall  be  on  my  guard !"  I  said,  quietly.  "  Besides,  I  can 
easily  pardon  any  outburst  of  temper  on  his  part — it  will  be 
perfectly  natural,  I  think !  To  lose  all  hope  of  ever  winning 
such  a  love  as  yours  must  needs  be  a  sore  trial  to  one  of  his 
hot  blood  and  fiery  impulses.  Poor  fellow!"  and  I  sighed  and 
shook  my  head  with  benevolent  gentleness.  "  By  the  way,  he 
tells  me  he  has  had  letters  from  you?" 

I  put  this  question  carelessly,  but  it  took  her  by  surprise. 
She  caught  her  breath  hard  and  looked  at  me  sharply,  with  an 
alarmed  expression.  Seeing  that  my  face  was  perfectly  im- 
passive, she  recovered  her  composure  instantly,  and  answered: 

"  Oh,  yes !  I  have  been  compelled  to  write  to  him  once  or 
twice  on  matters  of  business  connected  with  my  late  husband's 
affairs.  Most  unfortunately,  Fabio  made  him  one  of  the 
trustees  of  his  fortune  in  case  of  his  death — it  is  exceedingly 
awkward  for  me  that  he  should  occupy  that  position — it  ap- 
pears to  give  him  some  authority  over  my  actions.  In  reality 
he  has  none.  He  has  no  doubt  exaggerated  the  number  of 
times  I  have  written  to  him?  It  would  be  like  his  impertinence 
to  do  so." 

Though  this  last  remark  was  addressed  to  me  almost  as  a 
question,  I  let  it  pass  without  response.  I  reverted  to  my 
original  theme. 

"  What  think  you,  then?"  I  said.  "  Will  you  remain  here  or 
will  you  absent  yourself  for  a  few  days?" 


vendetta!  187 

She  rose  from  her  chair  and,  approaching  me,  knelt  down  at 
my  side,  clasping  her  two  little  hands  round  my  arm.  "  With 
your  permission,"  she  returned,  softly,  "I  will  go  to  the  con- 
vent where  I  was  educated.  It  is  some  eight  or  ten  miles 
distant  from  here,  and  I  think" — (here  she  counterfeited  the 
most  wonderful  expression  of  ingenuous  sweetness  and  piety) 
— "I  think  I  should  like  to  make  a,' retreat' — that  is,  devote 
some  time  solely  to  the  duties  of  religion  before  I  enter  upon 
a  second  marriage.  The  dear  nuns  would  be  so  glad  to  see 
me — and  I  am  sure  you  will  not  object?  It  will  be  a  good 
preparation  for  my  future." 

I  seized  her  caressing  hands  and  held  them  hard,  while  I 
looked  upon  her  kneeling  there  like  the  white-robed  figure  of 
a  praying  saint. 

"  It  will,  indeed !"  I  said,  in  a  harsh  voice.  "  The  best  of  all 
possible  preparations !  We  none  of  us  know  what  may  happen 
— we  can  not  tell  whether  life  or  death  awaits  us — it  is  wise 
to  prepare  for  either  by  words  of  penitence  and  devotion !  I 
admire  this  beautiful  spirit  in  you,  carina  !  Go  to  the  convent 
by  all  means!  I  shall  find  you  there  and  will  visit  you  when 
the  wrath  and  bitterness  of  our  friend  Ferrari  have  been 
smoothed  into  silence  and  resignation.  Yes — go  to  the  con- 
vent, among  the  good  and  pious  nuns — and  when  you  pray  for 
yourself,  pray  for  the  peace  of  your  dead  husband's  soul — and 
— for  me !  Such  prayers,  unselfish  and  earnest,  uttered  by 
pure  lips  like  yours,  fly  swiftly  to  heaven !  And  as  for  young 
Guido — have  no  fear — I  promise  you  he  shall  offend  you  no 
more! " 

"  Ah,  you  do  not  know  him !"  she  murmured,  lightly  kissing 
my  hands  that  still  held  hers;  "  I  fear  he  will  give  you  a  great 
deal  of  trouble." 

"I  shall  at  any  rate  know  how  to  silence  him,"  I  said,  re- 
leasing her  as  I  spoke,  and  watching  her  as  she  rose  from  her 
kneeling  position  and  stood  before  me,  supple  and  delicate  as 
a  white  iris  swaying  in  the  wind.  "  You  never  gave  him 
reason  to  hope — therefore  he  has  no  cause  of  complaint," 

"  True !"  she  replied,  readily,  with  an  untroubled  smile. 
"  But  I  am  such  a  nervous  creature !  I  am  always  imagining 
evils  that  never  happen.  And  now,  Cesare,  when  do  you  wish 
me  to  go  to  the  convent?" 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders  with  an  air  of  indifference. 

"  Your  submission  to  my  will,  w/'a  bella"  I  said,  coldly,  "  is 


I 88  vendetta! 

altogether  charming,  and  flatters  me  much,  but  I  am  not  your 
master — not  yet !  Pray  choose  your  own  time,  and  suit  your 
departure  to  your  own  pleasure." 

"Then,"  she  replied,  with  an  air  of  decision,  "I  will  go  to- 
day. The  sooner  the  better — for  some  instinct  tells  me  that 
Guido  will  play  us  a  trick  and  return  before  we  expect  him. 
Yes — I  will  go  to-day." 

I  rose  to  take  my  leave.  "  Then  you  will  require  leisure  to 
make  your  preparations,"!  said,  with  ceremonious  politeness. 
"  I  assure  you  I  approve  your  resolve.  If  you  inform  the 
superioress  of  the  convent  that  I  am  your  betrothed  husband, 
1  suppose  I  shall  be  permitted  to  see  you  when  I  call?" 

"  Oh,  certainly !"  she  replied.  "  The  dear  nuns  will  do  any- 
thing for  me.  Their  order  is  one  of  perpetual  adoration,  and 
their  rules  are  very  strict,  but  they  do  not  apply  them  to  their 
old  pupils,  and  I  am  one  of  their  great  favorites." 

"Naturally!"  I  observed.  "  And  will  you  also  join  in  the 
service  of  perpetual  adoration?" 

"Oh,  yes!" 

"  It  needs  an  untainted  soul  like  yours,"  I  said,  with  a  satiri- 
cal smile,  which  she  did  not  see,  "  to  pray  before  the  unveiled 
Host  without  being  conscience-smitten!  I  envy  you  your 
privilege.  /  could  not  do  it — but  you  are  probably  nearer  to 
the  angels  than  we  know.     And  so  you  will  pray  for  me?" 

She  raised  her  eyes  with  devout  gentleness.    "  I  will,  indeed !" 

"  I  thank  you !" — and  I  choked  back  the  bitter  contempt  and 
disgust  I  had  for  her  hypocrisy  as  I  spoke — "  I  thank  you 
heartily — most  heartily !     Addio !" 

She  came  or  rather  floated  to  my  side,  her  white  garments 
trailing  about  her  and  the  gold  of  her  hair  glittering  in  the 
mingled  glow  of  the  firelight  and  the  wintry  sunbeams  that 
shone  through  the  window.  She  looked  up — a  witch-like  lan- 
guor lay  in  her  eyes — her  red  lips  pouted. 

"  Not  one  kiss  before  you  go?"  she  said. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

For  a  moment  I  lost  my  self-possession.  I  scarcely  remem- 
ber now  what  I  did.  I  know  I  clasped  her  almost  roughly  in 
my  arms — I  know  that  I  kissed  her  passionately  on  lips,  throat 
and  brow — and  that  in  the  fervor  of  my  embraces,  the  thought 


vendetta!  189 

of  what  mtiimer  of  vile  thing  she  was  came  swiftly  upon  me, 
causing  me  to  release  her  with  such  suddenness  that  she  caught 
at  the  back  of  a  chair  to  save  herself  from  falling.  Her  breath 
came  and  went  in  little  quick  gasps  of  excitement,  her  face 
was  flushed — she  looked  astonished,  yet  certainly  not  dis- 
pleased. No,  she  was  not  angry,  but  /  was — thoroughly  an- 
noyed— bitterly  vexed  with  myself,  for  being  such  a  fool. 

"  Forgive  me,"  I  muttered.     "  I  forgot — I " 

A  little  smile  stole  round  the  comers  of  her  mouth.  "  You 
are  fully  pardoned!"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice;  "you  need  sot 
apologize." 

Her  smile  deepened;  suddenly  she  broke  into  a  rippling 
laugh,  sweet  and  silvery  as  a  bell — a  laugh  that  went  through 
me  like  a  knife.  Was  it  not  the  self-same  laughter  that  had 
pierced  my  brain  the  night  I  witnessed  her  amorous  interview 
with  Guido  in  the  avenue?  Had  not  the  cruel  mockery  of  it 
nearly  driven  me  mad?  I  could  not  endure  it — I  sprung  to  her 
side — she  ceased  laughing  and  looked  at  me  in  wide-eyed 
wonderment. 

"  Listen !"  I  said,  in  an  impatient,  almost  fierce  tone.  "  Do 
not  laugh  like  that!  It  jars  my  nerves — it — hurts  me!  I  will 
tell  you  why.  Once — long  ago — in  my  youth — I  loved  a 
woman.  She  was  not  like  you — no — for  she  was  false !  False 
to  the  very  heart's  core — false  in  every  word  she  uttered. 
You  understand  me?  She  resembled  you  in  nothing — nothing ! 
But  she  used  to  laugh  at  me — she  trampled  on  my  life  and 
spoiled  it — she  broke  my  heart !  It  is  all  past  now.  I  never 
think  of  her,  only  your  laughter  reminded  me — there !"  And 
I  took  her  hands  and  kissed  them.  "  I  have  told  you  the  story 
of  my  early  folly — forget  it  and  forgive  me !  It  is  time  you 
prepared  for  your  journey,  is  it  not?  If  I  can  be  of  service  to 
you,  command  me — you  know  where  to  send  for  me.  Good- 
by!  and  the  peace  of  a  pure  conscience  be  with  you!" 

And  I  laid  my  burning  hand  on  her  head  weighted  with  its 
clustering  curls  of  gold.  She  thought  this  gesture  was  one  of 
blessing.  /  thought — God  only  knows  what  I  thought — yet 
surely  if  curses  can  be  so  bestowed,  my  curse  crowned  her  at 
that  moment !  I  dared  not  trust  myself  longer  in  her  presence, 
and  without  another  word  or  look  I  left  her  and  hurried  from 
the  house.  I  knew  she  was  startled  and  at  the  same  time 
gratified  to  think  she  could  thus  have  moved  me  to  any  display 
of  emotion — but  I  would  not  even  turn  my  head  to  catch  her 


igo  vendetta! 

parting  glancfc.  x  could  not — I  was  sick  of  myself  and  of  her. 
I  was  literally  torn  asunder  between  love  and  hatred — love 
born  basely  of  material  feeling  alone — hatred,  the  offspring  of 
a  deeply  injured  spirit  for  whose  wrong  there  could  scarce  be 
found  sufficient  remedy.  Once  out  of  the  influence  of  her 
bewildering  beauty,  my  mind  grew  calmer — and  the  drive 
back  to  the  hotel  in  my  carriage  through  the  sweet  chillness 
of  the  December  air  quieted  the  feverish  excitement  of  my 
blood  and  restored  me  to  myself.  It  was  a  most  lovely  day — 
bright  and  fresh,  with  the  savor  of  the  sea  in  the  wind.  The 
waters  of  the  bay  were  of  a  steel-like  blue  shading  into  deep 
olive-green,  and  a  soft  haze  lingered  about  the  shores  of 
Amalfi  like  a  veil  of  gray,  shot  through  with  silver  and  gold. 
Down  the  streets  went  women  in  picturesque  garb,  carrying 
on  their  heads  baskets  full  to  the  brim  of  purple  violets  that 
scented  the  air  as  they  passed — children  ragged  and  dirty  ran 
along,  pushing  the  luxuriant  tangle  of  their  dark  locks  away 
from  their  beautiful  wild  antelope  eyes,  and,  holding  up 
bunches  of  roses  and  narcissi  with  smiles  as  brilliant  as  the 
very  sunshine,  implored  the  passengers  to  buy  "  for  the  sake 
of  the  little  Gesu  who  was  soon  coming!" 

Bells  clashed  and  clanged  from  the  churches  in  honor  of  San 
Tommaso,  whose  festival  it  was,  and  the  city  had  that  aspect 
of  gala  gayety  about  it  which  is  in  truth  common  enough  to 
all  continental  towns,  but  which  seems  strange  to  the  solemn 
Londoner  who  sees  so  much  apparently  reasonless  merriment 
for  the  first  time.  He,  accustomed  to  have  his  reluctant 
laughter  pumped  out  of  him  by  an  occasional  visit  to  the 
theater  where  he  can  witness  the  "  original"  English  transla- 
tion of  a  French  farce,  can  not  understand  tvhy  these  foolish 
Neapolitans  should  laugh  and  sing  and  shout  in  the  manner 
they  do,  merely  because  they  are  glad  to  be  alive.  And  after 
much  dubious  consideration,  he  decides  within  himself  that 
they  are  all  rascals — the  scum  of  the  earth — and  that  he  and 
he  only  is  the  true  representative  of  man  at  his  best — the 
model  of  civilized  respectability.  And  a  mournful  spectacle 
he  thus  seems  to  the  eyes  of  us  "  base"  foreigners — in  our 
hearts  we  are  sorry  for  him  and  believe  that  if  he  could  man- 
age to  shake  off  the  fetters  of  his  insular  customs  and  preju-. 
dices,  he  might  almost  succeed  in  enjoying  life  as  much  as  we 
do! 

As  I  drove  along  I  saw  a  small  crowd  at  one  of  the  street 


vendetta!  191 

corners — a  gesticulating,  laughing  crowd,  listening  to  an 
"  improvisatore"  or  wandering  poet — a  plump-looking  fellow 
who  had  all  the  rhymes  of  Italy  at  his  fingers'  ends,  and  who 
could  make  a  poem  on  any  subject  or  an  acrostic  on  any 
name  with  perfect  facility.  I  stopped  my  carriage  to  listen 
to  his  extemporized  verses,  many  of  which  were  really  admi- 
rable, and  tossed  him  three  francs.  He  threw  them  up  in  the 
air,  one  after  the  other,  and  caught  them,  as  they  fell,  in  his 
mouth,  appearing  to  have  swallowed  them  all — then  with  an 
inimitable  grimace,  he  pulled  off  his  tattered  cap  and  said : 

"  Ancora  affamato,  eccellcnza  !  "  (I  am  still  hungry !)  amid  the 
renewed  laughter  of  his  easily  amused  audience.  A  merry 
poet  he  was  and  without  conceit — and  his  good  hitmor  merited 
the  extra  silver  pieces  I  gave  him,  which  caused  him  to  wish 
me — "  £uan  appetito  e  un  sorriso  della  Madonna' — {a  good  appetite 
io you,  and  a  smile  of  the  Madonna).  Imagine  the  Lord  Laure- 
ate of  England  standing  at  the  corner  of  Regent  Street  swal- 
lowing half-pence  for  his  rhymes!  Yet  some  of  the  quaint 
conceits  strung  together  by  such  a  fellow  as  this  improvisatore 
might  furnish  material  for  many  of  the  so-called  "  poets" 
whose  names  are  mysteriously  honored  in  Britain. 

Further  on  I  came  upon  a  group  of  red-capped  coral  fishers 
assembled  round  a  portable  stove  whereon  roasting  chestnuts 
cracked  their  glossy  sides  and  emitted  savory  odors.  The 
men  were  singing  gayly  to  the  thrumming  of  an  old  guitar, 
and  the  song  they  sung  was  familiar  to  me.  Stay !  where  had 
I  heard  it? — let  me  listen! 

"Sciore  limone* 
Le  voglio  far  mori  de  passione 
Zompa  Uari  llira !  " 

Ha!  I  remembered  now.  When  I  had  crawled  out  of  the 
vault  through  the  brigands'  hole  of  entrance — when  my  heart 
had  bounded  with  glad  anticipations  never  to  be  realized — 
when  I  had  believed  in  the  worth  of  love  and  friendship — 
when  I  had  seen  the  morning  sun  glittering  on  the  sea,  and 
had  thought — poor  fool! — that  his  long  beams  were  like  so 
many  golden  flags  of  joy  hung  up  in  heaven  to  symbolize  the 
happiness  of  my  release  from  death  and  my  restoration  to 
liberty — then — then  I  had  heard  a  sailor's  voice  in  the  dis- 
tance singing  that  "  ritornello,"  and  I  had  fondly  imagined  its 

*  Neapolitan  dialect. 


192 


vendetta! 


impassioned  lines  were  all  for  me!  Hateful  music— most 
bitter  sweetness !  I  could  have  put  my  hands  up  to  my  ears 
to  shut  out  the  sound  of  it  now  that  I  thought  of  the  time 
when  I  had  heard  it  last.  For  then  I  had  possessed  a  heart— 
a  throbbing,  passionate,  sensitive  thing— alive  to  every  emo- 
tion of  tenderness  and  affection — now  that  heart  was  dead 
and  cold  as  a  stone.  Only  its  corpse  went  with  me  every- 
where, weighing  me  down  with  itself  to  the  strange  grave  it 
occupied,  a  grave  wherein  were  also  buried  so  many  dear 
delusions— such  plaintive  regrets,  such  pleading  memories, 
that  surely  it  is  no  wonder  their  small  ghosts  arose  and 
haunted  me,  saying,  "  JF///  thou  not  weep  for  this  lost  sweetness  ?  " 
"  Wilt  thou  not  relent  before  such  a  remembrancer'  or  "  Hast  thou 
no  desire  for  that  past  delight  ?"  But  to  all  such  inward  tempta- 
tions my  soul  was  deaf  and  inexorable ;  justice — stern,  immu- 
table justice  was  what  I  sought  and  what  I  meant  to  have. 

May  be  you  find  it  hard  to  understand  the  possibility  of 
scheming  and  carrying  out  so  prolonged  a  vengeance  as  mine? 
If  you  that  read  these  pages  are  English,  I  know  it  will  seem 
to  you  well-nigh  incomprehensible.  The  temperate  blood  of 
the  northerner,  combined  with  his  open,  unsuspicious  nature, 
has,  I  admit,  the  advantage  over  us  in  matters  of  personal 
injury.  An  Englishman,  so  I  hear,  is  incapable  of  nourishing 
a  long  and  deadly  resentment,  even  against  an  unfaithfxil  wife 
—he  is  too  indifferent,  he  thinks  it  not  worth  his  while.  But 
we  Neapolitans,  we  can  carry  a  "  vendetta"  through  a  life-time 
— ay,  through  generation  after  generation !  This  is  bad,  you 
say— immoral,  unchristian.  No  doubt!  We  are  more  than 
half  pagans  at  heart;  we  are  as  our  country  and  our  traditions 
have  made  us.  It  will  need  another  visitation  of  Christ  before 
we  shall  learn  how  to  forgive  those  that  despitefully  use  us. 
Such  a  doctrine  seems  to  us  a  mere  play  upon  words— a  weak 
maxim  only  fit  for  children  and  priests.  Besides,  did  Christ 
himself  forgive  Judas?     The  gospel  does  not  say  so ! 

When  I  reached  my  own  apartments  at  the  hotel  I  felt  worn 
out  and  fagged.  I  resolved  to  rest  and  receive  no  visitors  that 
day.  While  giving  my  orders  to  Vincenzo  a  thought  occurred 
to  me.  I  went  to  a  cabinet  in  the  room  and  unlocked  a  secret 
drawer.  In  it  lay  a  strong  leathern  case.  I  lifted  this,  and 
bade  Vincenzo  unstrap  and  open  it.  He  did  so,  nor  showed 
the  least  sign  of  surprise  when  a  pair  of  richly  ornamented 
pistols  was  displayed  to  his  view. 


vendetta!  193 

"Good  weapons?"  I  remarked,  in  a  casual  manner. 

My  valet  took  each  one  out  of  the  case,  and  examined  them 
both  critically. 

"They  need  cleaning,  eccellenza." 

"Good!"  I  said,  briefly.  "Then  clean  them  and  put  them 
in  good  order.     I  may  require  to  use  them." 

The  imperturbable  Vincenzo  bowed,  and,  taking  the 
weapons,  prepared  to  leave  the  room. 

"  Stay  !" 

He  turned.     I  looked  at  him  steadily. 

"  I  believe  you  are  a  faithful  fellow,  Vincenzo,"  I  said. 

He  met  my  glance  frankly. 

"The  day  may  come,"  I  went  on,  quietly,  "when  I  shall 
perhaps  put  your  fidelity  to  the  proof." 

The  dark  Tuscan  eyes,  keen  and  clear  a  moment  before, 
flashed  brightly  and  then  grew  humid. 

"Eccellenza,  you  have  only  to  command!  I  was  a  soldier 
once — I  know  what  duty  means.  But  there  is  a  better  service 
— gratitude.  I  am  your  poor  servant,  but  you  have  won  my 
heart.     I  would  give  my  life  for  you,  should  you  desire  it!" 

He  paused,  half  ashamed  of  the  emotion  that  threatened  to 
break  through  his  mask  of  impassibility,  bowed  again  and 
would  have  left  me,  but  that  I  called  him  back  and  held  out 
my  hand. 

"  Shake  hands,  amico"  I  said,  simply. 

He  caught  it  with  an  astonished  yet  pleased  look — and 
stooping,  kissed  it  before  I  could  prevent  him,  and  this  time 
literally  scrambled  out  of  my  presence  with  an  entire  oblivion 
of  his  usual  dignity.  Left  alone,  I  considered  this  behavior 
I  of  his  with  half-pained  surprise.  This  poor  fellow  loved  me 
it  was  evident — why,  I  knew  not.  I  had  done  no  more  for  him 
than  any  other  master  might  have  done  for  a  good  servant.  I 
had  often  spoken  to  him  with  impatience,  even  harshness; 
and  yet  I  had  "  won  his  heart" — so  he  said.  Why  should  he 
care  forme?  Why  should  my  poor  old  butler  Giacomo  cherish 
me  so  devotedly  in  his  memory?  Why  should  my  very  dog 
still  love  and  obey  me,  when  my  nearest  and  dearest,  my 
wife  and  my  friend,  had  so  gladly  forsaken  me,  and  were  so 
eager  to  forget  me?  Perhaps  fidelity  was  not  the  fashion 
now  among  educated  persons!  Perhaps  it  was  a  worn-out 
virtue,  left  to  the  bas-pcuple — to  the  vulgar — and  to  animals! 
Progress  might  have  attained  this  result — no  doubt  it  had. 
13 


194  vendetta! 

I  sighed  wearily,  and  threw  myself  down  in  an  arm-chair 
near  the  window,  and  watched  the  white-sailed  boats  skim- 
ming like  flecks  of  silver  across  the  blue-green  water.  The 
tinkling  of  a  tambourine  by  and  by  attracted  my  wandering 
attention,  and  looking  into  the  street  just  below  my  balcony  I 
saw  a  young  girl  dancing.  She  was  lovely  to  look  at,  and  she 
danced  with  exquisite  grace  as  well  as  modesty,  but  the 
beauty  of  her  face  was  not  so  much  caused  by  perfection  of 
feature  or  outline  as  by  a  certain  wistful  expression  that  had 
in  it  something  of  nobility  and  pride.  I  watched  her;  at  the 
conclusion  of  her  dance  she  held  up  her  tambourine  with  a 
bright  yet  appealing  smile.  Silver  and  copper  were  freely 
flung  to  her,  I  contributing  my  quota  to  the  amount;  but  all 
she  received  she  at  once  emptied  into  a  leathern  bag  which 
was  carried  by  a  young  and  handsome  man  who  accompanied 
her,  and  who,  alas!  was  totally  blind.  I  knew  the  couple 
well,  and  had  often  seen  them ;  their  history  was  pathetic 
enough.  The  girl  had  been  betrothed  to  the  young  fellow 
when  he  had  occupied  a  fairly  good  position  as  a  worker  in 
silver  filigree  jewelry.  His  eyesight,  long  painfully  strained 
over  his  delicate  labors,  suddenly  failed  him — he  lost  his  place, 
of  course,  and  was  utterly  without  resources.  He  offered  to 
release  his  fiancee  from  her  engagement,  but  she  would  not 
take  her  freedom — she  insisted  on  marrying  him  at  once.  She 
had  her  way,  and  devoted  herself  to  him  soul  and  body — 
danced  in  the  streets  and  sung  to  gain  a  living  for  herself  and 
him ;  taught  him  to  weave  baskets  so  that  he  might  not  feel 
himself  entirely  dependent  on  her,  and  she  sold  these  baskets 
for  him  so  successfully  that  he  was  gradually  making  quite  a 
little  trade  of  them.  Poor  child !  for  she  was  not  much  more 
than  a  child — what  a  bright  face  she  had ! — glorified  by  the 
self-denial  and  courage  of  her  every-day  life.  No  wonder  she 
had  won  the  sympathy  of  the  warm-hearted  and  impulsive 
Neapolitans — they  looked  upon  her  as  a  heroine  of  romance ; 
and  as  she  passed  through  the  streets,  leading  her  blind  hus- 
band tenderly  by  the  hand,  there  was  not  a  creature  in  the  city, 
even  among  ^he  most  abandoned  and  vile  characters,  who  would 
have  dared  to  offer  her  the  least  insult,  or  who  would  have 
ventured  to  address  her  otherwise  than  respectfully.  She 
was  good,  innocent,  and  true ;  how  was  it,  I  wondered  dream- 
ily, that  /  could  not  have  won  a  woman's  heart  like  hers? 
Were  the  poor  alone  to  possess  all  the  old  world  virtues— 


vendetta\  195 

honor  and  faith,  love  and  loyalty?  Was  there  something  in  a 
life  of  luxury  that  sapped  virtue  at  its  root?  Evidently 
early  training  had  little  to  do  with  after-results,  for  had  not 
my  wife  been  brought  up  among  an  order  of  nuns  renowned 
for  simplicity  and  sanctity ;  had  not  her  own  father  declared 
her  to  be  "  as  pure  as  a  flower  on  the  altar  of  the  Madonna ;" 
and  yet  the  evil  had  been  in  her,  and  nothing  had  eradicated 
it;  for  even  religion,  with  her,  was  a  mere  graceful  sham,  a 
kind  of  theatrical  effect  used  to  tone  down  her  natural  hypoc- 
risy. My  own  thoughts  began  to  harass  and  weary  me.  I 
took  up  a  volume  of  philosophic  essays  and  began  to  read,  in 
an  endeavor  to  distract  my  mind  from  dwelling  on  the  one 
perpetual  theme.  The  day  wore  on  slowly  enough ;  and  I 
was  glad  when  the  evening  closed  in,  and  when  Vincenzo,  re- 
marking that  the  night  was  chilly,  kindled  a  pleasant  wood- 
fire  in  my  room,  and  lighted  the  lamps.  A  little  while  before 
my  dinner  was  served  he  handed  me  a  letter,  stating  that  it 
had  just  been  brought  by  the  Countess  Romani's  coachman. 
It  bore  my  own  seal  and  motto.  I  opened  it;  it  was  dated, 
"  La  Santissima  Annunziata,"  and  ran  as  follows: 

"  Beloved !  I  arrived  here  safely ;  the  nuns  are  delighted  to 
see  me,  and  you  will  be  made  heartily  welcome  when  you 
come.  I  think  of  yoti  constantly — how  happy  I  felt  this  morn- 
ing! You  seemed  to  love  me  so  much;  why  are  you  not 
always  so  fond  of  your  faithful  Nina?" 

I  crumpled  this  note  fiercely  in  my  hand  and  flung  it  into 
the  leaping  flames  of  the  newly  lighted  fire.  There  was  a 
faint  perfume  about  it  that  sickened  me — a  subtle  odor  like 
that  of  a  civet  cat  when  it  moves  stealthily  after  its  prey 
through  a  tangle  of  tropical  herbage.  I  always  detested 
scented  note-paper — I  am  not  the  only  man  who  does  so.  One 
is  led  to  fancy  that  the  fingers  of  the  woman  who  writes  upon 
it  must  have  some  poisonous  and  offensive  taint  about  them, 
which  she  endeavors  to  cover  by  the  aid  of  a  chemical  con- 
coction. I  would  not  permit  myself  to  think  of  this  so  "  faith- 
ful Nina"  as  she  styled  herself.  I  resumed  my  reading,  and 
continued  it  even  at  dinner,  during  which  meal  Vincenzo 
waited  upon  me  with  his  usual  silent  gravity  and  decorum, 
though  I  could  feel  that  he  watched  me  with  a  certain  solici- 
tude. I  suppose  I  looked  weary — I  certainly  felt  so,  and  re- 
tired to  rest  unusually  early.     The  time  seemed  to  me  so  long 


196  vendetta! 

— would  the  end  nroer  come?  The  next  day  dawned  and 
trailed  its  tiresome  hours  after  it,  as  a  prisoner  might  trail  his 
chain  of  iron  fetters,  until  sunset,  and  then — then,  when  the 
gray  of  the  wintry  sky  flashed  for  a  brief  space  into  glowing 
red — then,  while  the  water  looked  like  blood  and  the  clouds 
like  flame — then  a  few  words  sped  along  the  telegraph  wires 
that  stilled  my  impatience,  roused  my  soul,  and  braced  every 
nerve  and  muscle  in  my  body  to  instant  action.  They  were 
plain,  clear,  and  concise : 

"  From  Guido  Ferrari,  Rome,  to  II  Conte  Cesare  Oliva, 
Naples. — Shall  be  with  you  on  the  24th  inst.  Train  arrives 
at  6:30  P.M.     Will  come  to  you  as  you  desire  without  fail." 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

Christmas-eve!  The  day  had  been  extra  chilly,  with  fre- 
quent showers  of  stinging  rain,  but  toward  five  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon  the  weather  cleared.  The  clouds,  which  had  been 
of  a  dull  uniform  gray,  began  to  break  asunder  and  disclose 
little  shining  rifts  of  pale  blue  and  bright  gold ;  the  sea  looked 
like  a  wide  satin  ribbon  shaken  out  and  shimmering  with 
opaline  tints.  Flower  girls  trooped  forth  making  the  air 
musical  with  their  mellow  cries  of  "  Fiori!  chivuol  fiori,"  and 
holding  up  their  tempting  wares — not  bunches  of  holly  and 
mistletoe  stich  as  are  known  in  England,  but  roses,  lilies, 
jonquils,  and  sweet  daffodils.  The  shops  were  brilliant  with 
bouquets  and  baskets  of  fruits  and  flowers ;  a  glittering  show 
of  dtrennes,  or  gifts  to  suit  all  ages  and  conditions,  were  set 
forth  in  tempting  array,  from  a  box  of  bonbons  costing  one 
franc  to  a  jeweled  tiara  worth  a  million,  while  in  many  of  the 
windows  were  displayed  models  of  the  "  Bethlehem,"  with 
babe  Jesus  lying  in  His  manger,  for  the  benefit  of  the  round- 
eyed  children — who,  after  staring  fondly  at  His  waxen  image 
for  some  time,  would  run  off  hand  in  hand  to  the  nearest 
church  where  the  usual  Christmas  creche  was  arranged,  and 
there  kneeling  down,  would  begin  to  implore  their  "  dear  little 
Jesus,"  their  "  own  little  brother,"  not  to  forget  them,  with  a 
simplicity  of  belief  that  was  as  touching  as  it  was  unaffected. 

I  am  told  that  in  England  the  principal  sights  on  Christmas- 
eve  are  the  shops  of  the  butchers  and  poulterers  hung  with 
the   dead  carcases  of  animals  newly  slaughtered,  in  whose 


vendetta!  197 

mouths  arc  thrust  bunches  of  prickly  holly,  at  which  agreeable 
spectacle  the  passers-by  gape  with  gluttonous  approval. 
Surely  there  is  nothing  graceful  about  such  a  commemoration 
of  the  birth  of  Christ  as  this — nothing  picturesque,  nothing 
poetic — nothing  even  orthodox,  for  Christ  was  born  in  the 
East,  and  the  Orientals  are  very  small  eaters,  and  are  particu- 
larly sparing  in  the  use  of  meat.  One  wonders  what  such  an 
unusual  display  of  vulgar  victuals  has  to  do  with  the  coming 
of  the  Saviour,  who  arrived  among  us  in  such  poor  estate  that 
even  a  decent  roof  was  denied  to  Ilim.  Perhaps,  though,  the 
English  people  read  their  gospels  in  a  way  of  their  own,  and 
understood  that  the  wise  men  of  the  East,  who  are  supposed  to 
have  brought  the  Divine  Child  symbolic  gifts  of  gold,  frank- 
incense and  myrrh,  really  brought  joints  of  beef,  turkeys, 
and  "  plum-pudding,"  that  vile  and  indigestible  mixture  at 
which  an  Italian  shrugs  his  shoulders  in  visible  disgust. 
There  is  something  barbaric,  I  suppose,  in  the  British  customs 
still — something  that  reminds  one  of  their  ancient  condition 
when  the  Romans  conquered  them — when  their  supreme  idea 
of  enjoyment  was  to  have  an  ox  roasted  whole  before  them 
while  they  drank  "  wassail"  till  they  groveled  under  their  own 
tables  in  a  worse  condition  than  overfed  swine.  Coarse  and 
vulgar  plenty  is  still  the  leading  characteristic  at  the  dinners 
of  English  or  Avacrican  parvetnis;  they  have  scarcely  any  idea 
of  the  refinements  that  can  be  imparted  to  the  prosaic  neces- 
sity of  eating — of  the  many  little  graces  of  the  table  that  are 
understood  in  part  by  the  French,  but  that  perhaps  never  reach 
such  absolute  perfection  of  taste  and  skill  as  at  the  banquets 
of  a  cultured  and  clever  Italian  noble.  Some  of  these  are 
veritable  "  feasts  of  the  gods,"  and  would  do  honor  to  the 
fabled  Olympus,  and  such  a  one  I  had  prepared  for  Guido 
Ferrari  as  a  greeting  to  him  on  his  return  from  Rome — a  feast 
of  welcome  and — farewell ! 

All  the  resources  of  the  hotel  at  which  I  stayed  had  been 
brought  into  requisition.  The  chef,  a  famous  cordon  bleu,  had 
transferred  the  work  of  the  usual  table  d'hote  to  his  underlings, 
and  had  bent  the  powers  of  his  culinary  intelligence  solely  on 
the  production  of  the  magnificent  dinner  I  had  ordered.  The 
landlord,  in  spite  of  himself,  broke  into  exclamations  of  won- 
der and  awe  as  he  listened  to  and  wrote  down  my  commands 
for  different  wines  of  the  rarest  kinds  and  choicest  vintages. 
The  servants  rushed  hither  and  thither  to  obey  my  various 


198  vendetta! 

behests,  with  looks  of  immense  importance ;  the  head  waiter, 
a  superb  official  who  prided  himself  on  his  artistic  taste,  took 
the  laying-out  of  the  table  under  his  entire  superintendence, 
and  nothing  was  talked  of  or  thought  of  for  the  time  but  the 
grandeur  of  my  proposed  entertainment. 

About  six  o'clock  I  sent  my  carriage  down  to  the  railway 
station  to  meet  Ferrari  as  I  had  arranged;  and  then,  at  my 
landlord's  invitation,  I  went  to  survey  the  stage  that  was  pre- 
pared for  one  important  scene  of  my  drama — to  see  if  the 
scenery,  side-lights,  and  general  effects  were  all  in  working 
order.  To  avoid  disarranging  my  own  apartments,  I  had 
chosen  for  my  dinner-party  a  room  on  the  ground-floor  of  the 
hotel,  which  was  often  let  out  for  marriage-breakfasts  and 
other  purposes  of  the  like  kind ;  it  was  octagonal  in  shape,  not 
too  large,  and  I  had  had  it  most  exquisitely  decorated  for  the 
occasion.  The  walls  were  hung  with  draperies  of  gold-colored 
silk  and  crimson  velvet,  interspersed  here  and  there  with  long 
mirrors,  which  were  ornamented  with  crystal  candelabra,  in 
which  twinkled  hundreds  of  lights  under  rose-tinted  glass 
shades.  At  the  back  of  the  room,  a  miniature  conservatory 
was  displayed  to  view,  full  of  rare  ferns  and  subtly  perfumed 
exotics,  in  the  center  of  which  a  fountain  rose  and  fell  with 
regular  and  melodious  murmur.  Here,  later  on,  a  band  of 
stringed  instruments  and  a  choir  of  boys'  voices  were  to  be 
stationed,  so  that  sweet  music  might  be  heard  and  felt  with- 
out the  performers  being  visible.  One,  and  one  only,  of  the 
long  French  windows  of  the  room  was  left  uncurtained ;  it  was 
simply  draped  with  velvet  as  one  drapes  a  choice  picture,  and 
through  it  the  eyes  rested  on  a  perfect  view  of  the  Bay  of 
Naples,  white  with  the  wintry  moonlight. 

The  dinner-table,  laid  for  fifteen  persons,  glittered  with 
sumptuous  appointments  of  silver,  Venetian  glass,  and  the 
rarest  flowers;  the  floor  was  carpeted  with  velvet  pile,  in 
which  some  grains  of  ambergris  had  been  scattered,  so  that  in 
walking  the  feet  sunk,  as  it  were,  into  a  bed  of  moss  rich  with 
the  odors  of  a  thousand  spring  blossoms.  The  very  chairs 
wherein  my  guests  were  to  seat  themselves  were  of  a  luxurious 
shape  and  softly  stuffed,  so  that  one  could  lean  back  in  them 
or  recline  at  ease— in  short,  everything  was  arranged  with  a 
lavish  splendor  almost  befitting  the  banquet  of  an  Eastern 
monarch,  and  yet  with  such  accurate  taste  that  there  was  no 
detail  one  could  have  wished  omitted. 


vendetta!  199 

I  was  thoroughly  satisfied,  but  as  I  know  what  an  unwise 
plan  it  is  to  praise  servants  too  highly  for  doing  well  what  they 
are  expressly  paid  to  do,  I  intimated  my  satisfaction  to  my 
landlord  by  a  mere  careless  nod  and  smile  of  approval.  He, 
who  waited  on  my  every  gesture  with  abject  humility,  re- 
ceived this  sign  of  condescension  with  as  much  delight  as 
though  it  had  come  from  the  king  himself,  and  I  could  easily 
see  that  the  very  fact  of  my  showing  no  enthusiasm  at  the 
result  of  his  labors  made  him  consider  me  a  greater  man  than 
ever.  I  now  went  to  my  own  apartments  to  don  my  evening 
attire ;  I  found  Vincenzo  brushing  every  speck  of  dust  from 
my  dress-coat  with  careful  nicety — he  had  already  arranged 
the  other  articles  of  costume  neatly  on  my  bed  ready  for  wear. 
I  unlocked  a  dressing-case  and  took  from  thence  three  studs, 
each  one  formed  of  a  single  brilliant  of  rare  clearness  and 
luster,  and  handed  them  to  him  to  fix  in  my  shirt-front. 
While  he  was  polishing  these  admiringly  on  his  coat-sleeve  I 
watched  him  earnestly — then  I  suddenly  addressed  him: 

"Vincenzo!"     He  started. 

"  Eccellenza?" 

"To-night  you  will  stand  behind  my  chair  and  assist  in 
serving  the  wine." 

"  Yes,  eccellenza." 

"You  will,"  I  continued,  "attend  particularly  to  Signor 
Ferrari,  who  will  sit  at  my  right  hand.  Take  care  that  his 
glass  is  never  empty." 

"  Yes,  eccellenza." 

"Whatever  may  be  said  or  done,"  I  went  on,  quietly,  "you 
will  show  no  sign  of  alarm  or  surprise.  From  the  commence- 
ment of  dinner  till  /  tell  you  to  move,  remeiwber  your  place 
is  fixed  by  me." 

The  honest  fellow  looked  a  little  puzzled  but  [replied  as 
before : 

"  Yes,  eccellenza." 

I  smiled,  and  advancing,  laid  my  hand  on  hii  arm. 

"  How  about  the  pistols,  Vincenzo?" 

"They  are  cleaned  and  ready  for  use,  ecceUenza,"  he  re- 
plied.    "  I  have  placed  them  in  your  cabinet." 

"That  is  well!"  I  said  with  a  satisfied  gesture.  "You  can 
leave  me  and  arrange  the  salon  for  the  rece\>tion  of  my 
friends." 

He  disappeared,  and  I  busied  myself  with  ray  tMlet,  about 


200  vendetta! 

which  I  was  for  once  tmusually  particular.  The  conventtonal 
dress-suit  is  not  very  becoming,  yet  there  are  a  few  men  here 
and  there  who  look  well  in  it,  and  who,  in  spite  of  similarity 
in  attire,  will  never  be  mistaken  for  waiters.  Others  there 
are  who,  passable  in  appearance  when  clad  in  their  ordinary 
garments,  reach  the  very  acme  of  plebeianism  when  they 
clothe  themselves  in  the  unaccommodating  evening-dress. 
Fortunately,  I  happened  to  be  one  of  the  former  class— the 
sober  black,  the  broad  white  display  of  starched  shirt-front 
and  neat  tie  became  me,  almost  too  well  I  thought.  It  would 
have  been  better  for  my  purposes  if  I  could  have  feigned  an 
aspect  of  greater  age  and  weightier  gravity.  I  had  scarcely 
finished  my  toilet  when  the  rumbling  of  wheels  in  the  court- 
yard outside  made  the  hot  blood  rush  to  my  face,  and  my 
heart  beat  with  feverish  excitement.  I  left  my  dressing-room, 
however,  with  a  composed  countenance  and  calm  step,  and 
entered  my  private  salon  just  as  its  doors  were  flung  open 
and  "  Signer  Ferrari"  was  announced.  He  entered  smiling — • 
his  face  was  alight  with  good  humor  and  glad  anticipation — 
he  looked  handsomer  than  usual. 

"  Eccomi  qud,  I "  he  cried,  seizing  my  hands  enthusiastically 
in  his  own.  "  My  dear  conte,  I  am  delighted  to  see  you !  What 
an  excellent  fellow  you  are!  A  kind  of  amiable  Arabian 
Nights  genius,  who  occupies  himself  in  making  mortals  happy. 
And  how  are  you?    You  look  remarkably  well!" 

*'I  can  return  the  compliment,"  I  said,  gayly.  "You  are 
more  of  an  Antinous  than  ever." 

He  laughed,  well  pleased,  and  sat  down,  drawing  off  his 
gloves  and  loosening  his  traveling  overcoat. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  plenty  of  cash  puts  a  man  in  good  humor, 
and  therefore  in  good  condition,"  he  replied.  "  But  my  dear 
fellow,  you  are  dressed  for  dinner — quelpreux  chevalier!  I  am 
positively  unfit  to  be  in  your  company !  You  insisted  that  I 
should  come  to  you  directly  on  my  arrival,  but  I  really  must 
change  my  apparel.  Your  man  took  my  valise ;  in  it  are  my 
dress-clothes — I  shall  not  be  ten  minutes  putting  them  on." 

"  Take  a  glass  of  wine  first,"  I  said,  pouring  out  some  of  his 
favorite  Montepulciano.  "  There  is  plenty  of  time.  It  is 
barely  seven,  and  we  do  not  dine  till  eight."  He  took  the 
wine  from  my  hand  and  smiled.  I  returned  the  smile,  adding, 
"  It  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  receive  you,  Ferrari !  I  have 
been  impatient  for  your  return — almost  as  impatient  as — " 


vendetta!  201 

He  paused  in  the  act  of  drinking,  and  his  eyes  flashed 
delightedly. 

"  As  she  has?  Piccinina  !  How  I  long  to  see  her  again !  I 
swear  to  you,  amico,  I  should  have  gone  straight  to  the  Villa 
Romani  had  I  obeyed  my  own  impulse — but  I  had  promised 
you  to  come  here,  and,  on  the  whole,  the  evening  will  do  as 
well" — and  he  laughed  with  a  covert  meaning  in  his  laughter 
•— "  perhaps  better!" 

My  hands  clinched,  but  I  said  with  forced  gayety: 

"  Ma  ccrtamcnte  !  The  evening  will  be  much  better !  Is  it 
not  Byron  who  says  that  women,  like  stars,  look  best  at 
night?  You  will  find  her  the  same  as  ever,  perfectly  well  and 
perfectly  charming.  It  must  be  her  pure  and  candid  soul 
that  makes  her  face  so  fair!  It  may  be  a  relief  to  your  mind 
to  know  that  I  am  the  only  man  she  has  allowed  to  visit  her 
during  your  absence !" 

"  Thank  God  for  that!"  cried  Ferrari,  devoutly,  as  he  tossed 
off  his  wine.  "  And  now  tell  me,  my  dear  conte,  what  bac- 
chanalians are  coming  to-night?  Per  Dio,  after  all  I  am  more 
in  the  humor  for  dinner  than  love-making !" 

I  burst  out  laughing  harshly.  "  Of  course !  Every  sensible 
man  prefers  good  eating  even  to  good  women !  Who  are  my 
guests  you  ask?  I  believe  you  know  them  all.  First,  there 
is  the  Duca  Filippo  Marina." 

"  By  Heaven !"  interrupted  Guido.  "  An  absolute  gentleman, 
who  by  his  manner  seems  to  challenge  the  universe  to  dis- 
prove his  dignity !  Can  he  unbend  so  far  as  to  partake  of  food 
in  public?  My  dear  conte,  you  should  have  askea  him  that 
question !" 

"Then,"  I  went  on,  not  heeding  this  interruption,  "  Signor 
Fraschetti  and  the  Marchese  Giulano." 

"  Giulano  drinks  deep !"  laughed  Ferrari,  "  and  should  he 
mix  his  wines,  you  will  find  him  ready  to  stab  all  the  waiters 
before  the  dinner  is  half  over." 

"  In  mixing  wines,"  I  returned,  coolly,  "  he  will  but  imitate 
your  example,  caro  mio." 

"  Ah,  but  I  can  stand  it !"  he  said.  "  He  cannot !  Few 
Neapolitans  are  like  me  !" 

I  watched  him  narrowly,  and  went  on  with  the  list  of  my 
invited  guests. 

"  After  these  comes  the  Capitano  Luigi  Freccia." 

"  What!  the  raging  fire-eater?"  exclaimed  Guido.     "  He  whq 


202  vendetta! 

at  every  second  word  raps  out  a  pagan  or  Christian  oath,  and 
can  not  for  his  life  tell  any  difference  between  the  two !" 

"  And  the  illustrious  gentlemen,  Crispiano  Dulci  and  Antonio 
Biscardi,  artists  like  yourself,"  I  continued. 

He  frowned  slightly — then  smiled. 

"I  wish  them  good  appetites!  Time  was  when  I  envied 
their  skill — now  I  can  afford  to  be  generous.  They  are  wel- 
come to  the  whole  field  of  art  as  far  as  I  am  concerned.  I 
have  said  farewell  to  the  brush  and  palette — I  shall  never 
paint  again." 

True  enough!  I  thought,  eying  the  shapely  white  hand 
with  which  he  just  then  stroked  his  dark  mustache,  the  same 
hand  on  which  my  family  diamond  ring  glittered  like  a  star. 
He  looked  up  suddenly. 

"  Go  on,  conte !     I  am  all  impatience.     Who  come  next?" 

"  More  fire-eaters,  I  suppose  you  will  call  them,"  I  answered, 
"and  French  fire-eaters  too.  Monsieur  le  Marquis  D'Aven- 
court  and  le  beau  Capitaine  Eugene  de  Hamal." 

Ferrari  looked  astonished.  "  Per  Bacco !"  he  exclaimed. 
"Two  noted  Paris  duelists!  Why — what  need  have  you  of 
such  valorous  associates?  I  confess  your  choice  surprises 
me." 

"  I  understood  them  to  ho, your  friends,"  I  said,  composedly. 
"  If  you  remember,  you  introduced  me  to  them,  I  know  noth- 
ing of  the  gentlemen  beyond  that  they  appear  to  be  pleasant 
fellows  and  good  talkers.  As  for  their  reputed  skill  I  am  in- 
clined to  set  that  down  to  a  mere  rumor — at  any  rate,  ray 
dinner-table  will  scarcely  provide  a  field  for  the  display  of 
swordsmanship." 

Guido  laughed.  "  Well,  no !  but  these  fellows  would  like 
p  make  it  one — why  they  will  pick  a  quarrel  for  the  mere 
ifting  of  an  eyebrow.     And  the  rest  of  your  company.^" 

"  Are  the  inseparable  brother  sculptors.  Carlo  and  Francesco 
-(espetti,  Chevalier  Mancini,  scientist  and  man  of  letters; 
^  aziano  Salustri,  poet  and  musician,  and  the  fascinating  Mar- 
c.-ese  Ippolito  Gualdro,  whose  conversation,  as  you  know,  is 
m»«re  entrancing  than  the  voice  of  Adelina  Patti.  I  have 
on^v  to  add,"  and  I  smiled  half  mockingly,  "  the  name  of 
SigTtor  Guido  Ferrari,  true  friend  and  loyal  lover — and  the 
partF  is  complete." 

"  AJro .'  Fifteen  in  all  including  yourself,"  said  Ferrari, 
gayly,  enumerating  them  on  his  fingers.     "  Fer  la  viadre  di 


vendetta!  203 

Dio!  With  such  a  goodly  company  and  a  host  who  entertains 
en  rot  we  shall  pass  a  merry  time  of  it.  And  did  you,  a7nico, 
actually  organize  this  banquet  merely  to  welcome  back  so 
unworthy  a  person  as  myself?" 

"  Solely  and  entirely  for  that  reason,"  I  replied. 

He  jumped  up  from  his  chair  and  clapped  his  two  hands  on 
my  shoulders. 

"A  la  bonne  heure !  But  why,  in  the  name  of  the  saints  or 
the  devil,  have  you  taken  such  a  fancy  to  me?" 

"  Why  have  I  taken  such  a  fancy  to  you?"  I  repeated,  slowly. 
"  My  dear  Ferrari,  I  am  surely  not  alone  in  my  admiration  for 
your  high  qualities!  Does  not  every  one  like  you?  Are  you 
not  a  universal  favorite?  Did  you  not  tell  me  that  your  late 
friend  the  Count  Romani'held  you  as  the  dearest  to  him  in 
the  world  after  his  wife?    Ebbene  !     Why  underrate  yourself?" 

He  let  his  hands  fall  slowly  from  my  shoulders  and  a  look 
of  pain  contracted  his  features.     After  a  little  silence  he  said: 

"  Fabio  again !  How  his  name  and  memory  haunt  me !  I 
told  you  he  was  a  fool — it  was  part  of  his  folly  that  he  loved 
me  too  well — perhaps.  Do  you  know  I  have  thought  of  him 
very  much  lately?" 

"  Indeed?"  and  I  feigned  to  be  absorbed  in  fixing  a  star-like 
japonica  in  my  button-hole.     "  How  is  that?" 

A  grave  and  meditative  look  softened  the  usually  defiant 
brilliancy  of  his  eyes. 

"  I  saw  my  uncle  die,"  he  continued,  speaking  in  a  low  tone. 
"  He  was  an  old  man  and  had  very  little  strength  left — yet  his 
battle  with  death  was  horrible — horrible !  I  see  him  yet — his 
yellow  convulsed  face — his  twisted  limbs — his  claw-like  hands 
tearing  at  the  empty  air — then  the  ghastly  grin  and  dropped 
jaw — the  wide-open  glazed  eyes — pshaw !  it  sickened  me !" 

"  Well,  well !"  I  said  in  a  soothing  way,  still  busying  myself 
with  the  arrangement  of  my  button-hole,  and  secretly  won- 
dering what  new  emotion  was  at  work  in  the  volatile  mind  of 
my  victim.  "  No  doubt  it  was  distressing  to  witness — but  you 
could  not  have  been  very  sorry — he  was  an  old  man,  and, 
though  it  is  a  platitude  not  worth  repeating — we  must  all 
die." 

"  Sorry!"  exclaimed  Ferrari,  talking  almost  more  to  himself 
than  to  me.  "  I  was  glad !  He  was  an  old  scoundrel,  deeply 
dyed  in  every  sort  of  social  villany.  No — I  was  not  sorry, 
only  as  I  watched  him  in  his  frantic  struggle,  fighting  furiously 


204  VENDETTA! 

for  each  fresh  gasp  of  breath — I  thought — I  know  not  why — of 
Fabio." 

Profoundly  astonished,  but  concealing  my  astonishment 
under  an  air  of  indifference,  I  began  to  laugh. 

"  Upon  my  word,  Ferrari — pardon  me  for  saying  so,  but  the 
air  of  Rome  seems  to  have  somewhat  obscured  your  mind!  I 
confess  I  cannot  follow  your  meaning." 

He  sighed  uneasily.  "  I  dare  say  not !  I  scarce  can  follow 
it  myself.  But  if  it  was  so  hard  for  an  old  man  to  writhe  him- 
self out  of  life,  what  must  it  have  been  for  Fabio?  We  were 
students  together;  we  used  to  walk  with  our  arms  round  each 
other's  necks  like  school-girls,  and  he  was  young  and  full  of 
vitality — physically  stronger,  too,  than  I  am.  He  must  have 
battled  for  life  with  every  nerve  and  sinew  stretched  to  almost 
breaking."  He  stopped  and  shuddered.  "  By  Heaven!  death 
should  be  made  easier  for  us!     It  is  a  frightful  thing!" 

A  contemptuous  pity  arose  in  me.  AVas  he  coward  as  well 
as  traitor?    I  touched  him  lightly  on  the  arm. 

"  Excuse  me,  my  young  friend,  if  I  say  frankly  that  your 
dismal  conversation  is  slightly  fatiguing.  I  cannot  accept  it 
as  a  suitable  preparation  for  dinner!  And  permit  me  to  re- 
mind you  that  you  have  still  to  dress." 

The  gentle  satire  of  my  tone  made  him  look  up  and  smile. 
His  face  cleared,  and  he  passed  his  hand  over  his  forehead,  as 
though  he  swept  it  free  of  some  unpleasant  thought. 

"  I  believe  I  am  nervous,"  he  said  with  a  half  laugh.  "  For 
the  last  few  hours  I  have  had  all  sorts  of  uncomfortable  pre- 
sentiments and  forebodings." 

"  No  wonder !"  I  returned  carelessly,  "  with  such  a  spectacle 
as  you  have  described  before  the  eyes  of  your  memory.  The 
Eternal  City  savors  somewhat  disagreeably  of  graves.  Shake 
the  dust  of  the  Caesars  from  your  feet,  and  enjoy  your  life, 
while  it  lasts !" 

"Excellent  advice!"  he  said,  smiling,  "and  not  difficult  to 
follow.  Now  to  attire  for  the  festival.  Have  I  your  per- 
mission?" 

I  touched  the  bell  which  summoned  Vincenzo,  and  bade  him 
wait  on  Signor  Ferrari's  orders.  Guido  disappeared  under 
his  escort,  giving  me  a  laughing  nod  of  salutation  as  he  left 
the  room.  I  watched  his  retiring  figure  with  a  strange  pitiful- 
ness — the  first  emotion  of  the  kind  that  had  awakened  in  me 
for  him  since  I  learned  his  treachery.     His  allusion  to  that 


vendetta!  205 

time  when  we  had  been  students  together — when  we  had 
walked  with  arms  round  each  other's  necks  "  like  school-girls," 
as  he  said,  had  touched  me  more  closely  than  I  cared  to 
realize.  It  was  true,  we  had  been  happy  then — two  careless 
youths  with  all  the  world  like  an  untrodden  race-course  be- 
fore us.  She  had  not  then  darkened  the  heaven  of  our  confi- 
dence ;  she  had  not  come  with  her  false  fair  face  to  make  of 
me  a  blind,  doting  madman,  and  to  transform  him  into  a  liar 
and  hypocrite.  It  was  all  her  fault,  all  the  misery  and  horror; 
she  was  the  blight  on  our  lives;  she  merited  the  heaviest 
punishment,  and  she  would  receive  it.  Yet,  would  to  God 
we  had  neither  of  us  ever  seen  her !  Her  beauty,  like  a  sword, 
had  severed  the  bonds  of  friendship  that,  after  all,  when  it 
does  exist  between  two  men,  is  better  and  braver  than  the  love 
of  woman.  However,  all  regrets  were  unavailing  now;  the 
evil  was  done,  and  there  was  no  undoing  it.  I  had  little  time 
left  me  for  reflection  ;  each  moment  that  passed  brought  me 
nearer  to  the  end  I  had  planned  and  foreseen. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

At  about  a  quarter  to  eight  my  guests  began  to  arrive,  and 
one  by  one  they  all  came  in  save  two — the  brothers  Respetti. 
While  we  were  awaiting  them,  Ferrari  entered  in  evening- 
dress,  with  the  conscious  air  of  a  handsome  man  who  knows 
he  is  looking  his  best.  I  readily  admitted  his  charm  of  man- 
ner; had  I  not  myself  been  subjugated  and  fascinated  by  it  in 
the  old  happ3',  foolish  days?  He  was  enthusiastically  greeted 
and  welcomed  back  to  Naples  by  all  the  gentlemen  assembled, 
many  of  whom  were  his  own  particular  friends.  They  em- 
braced him  in  the  impressionable  style  common  to  Italians, 
with  the  exception  of  the  stately  Duca  di  Marina,  who  merely 
bowed  courteously,  and  inquired  if  certain  families  of  dis- 
tinction whom  he  named  had  yet  arrived  in  Rome  for  the 
winter  season.  Ferrari  was  engaged  in  replying  to  these 
questions  with  his  usual  grace  and  ease  and  fluency,  when  a 
note  was  brought  to  me  marked  "  Immediate."  It  contained 
a  profuse  and  elegantly  worded  apology  from  Carlo  Respetti, 
who  regretted  deeply  that  an  unforeseen  matter  of  business 
would  prevent  himself  and  his  brother  from  having  the  in- 


206  vendetta! 

estimable  honor  and  delight  of  dining  with  me  that  evening. 
I  thereupon  rang  my  bell  as  a  sign  that  the  dinner  need  no 
longer  be  delayed;  and,  turning  to  those  assembled,  I  an- 
nounced to  them  the  unavoidable  absence  of  two  of  the  party. 

"A  pity  Francesco  could  not  have  come,"  said  Captain 
Freccia,  twirling  the  ends  of  his  long  mustachios.  "  He  loves 
good  wine,  and,  better  still,  good  company." 

"  Caro  Capitano !"  broke  in  the  musical  voice  of  the  Mar- 
chese  Gualdro,  "  you  know  that  our  Francesco  goes  nowhere 
without  his  beloved  Carlo.  Carlo  ca?i  ?wt  come — altro !  Fran- 
cesco will  not.     Would  that  all  men  were  such  brothers !" 

"  If  they  were,"  laughed  Luziano  Salustri,  rising  from  the 
piano  where  he  had  been  playing  softly  to  himself,  "  half  the 
world  would  be  thrown  out  of  employment.  You,  for  in- 
stance," turning  to  the  Marquis  D'Avencourt,  "  would  scarce 
know  what  to  do  with  your  time." 

The  marquis  smiled  and  waved  his  hand  with  a  deprecatory 
gesture — that  hand,  by  the  by,  was  remarkably  small  and 
delicately  formed — it  looked  almost  fragile.  Yet  the  strength 
and  suppleness  of  D'Avencourt's  wrist  was  reputed  to  be  pro- 
digious by  those  who  had  seen  him  handle  the  sword,  whether 
in  play  or  grim  earnest. 

"  It  is  an  impossible  dream,"  he  said,  in  reply  to  the  remarks 
of  Gualdro  and  Salustri,  "  that  idea  of  all  men  fraternizing  to- 
gether in  one  common  pig-sty  of  equality.  Look  at  the  differ- 
ences of  caste !  Birth,  breeding  and  education  make  of  man 
that  high-mettled,  sensitive  animal  known  as  gentleman,  and 
not  all  the  socialistic  theories  in  the  world  can  force  him  down 
on  the  same  level  with  the  rough  boor,  whose  flat  nose  and 
coarse  features  announce  him  as  plebeian  even  before  one 
hears  the  tone  of  his  voice.  We  can  not  help  these  things.  I 
do  not  think  we  7£'^/^/^/ help  them  even  if  we  could." 

"  You  are  quite  right,"  said  Ferrari.  "  You  can  not  put 
race-horses  to  draw  the  plow.  I  have  always  imagined  that 
the  first  quarrel — the  Cain  and  Abel  affair — must  have  occurred 
through  some  difference  of  caste  as  well  as  jealousy — for  in- 
stance, perhaps  Abel  was  a  negro  and  Cain  a  white  man,  or 
vice  versd;  which  would  account  for  the  antipathy  existing 
between  the  races  to  this  day." 

The  Duke  di  Marina  coughed  a  stately  cough,  and  shrugged 
his  shoulders. 

"  That  first  quarrel,"  he  said,  "  as  related  in  the  Bible,  was 


vendetta!  207 

exceedingly  vulgar.  It  must  have  been  a  kind  of  prize-fight. 
Ce  n  ^tait  pas  fin." 

Gualdro  laughed  delightedly. 

"So  like  you,  Marina!"  he  exclaimed,  "to  say  that!  I 
sympathize  with  your  sentiments!  Fancy  the  butcher  Abel 
piling  up  his  reeking  carcasses  and  setting  them  on  fire,  while 
on  the  other  side  stood  Cain  the  green-grocer  frizzling  his 
cabbages,  turnips,  carrots,  and  other  vegetable  matter!  What 
a  spectacle !  The  gods  of  Olympus  would  have  sickened  at 
it!  However,  the  Jewish  Deity,  or,  rather,  the  well-fed  priest 
who  represented  him,  showed  his  good  taste  in  the  matter;  I 
myself  prefer  the  smell  of  roast  meat  to  the  rather  disagree- 
able odor  of  scorching  vegetables!" 

We  laughed — and  at  that  moment  the  door  was  thrown  open, 
and  the  head-waiter  announced  in  solemn  tones  befitting  his 
dignity — 

"  Le  diner  de  Monsieur  le  Comte  est  servi!" 

I  at  once  led  the  way  to  the  banqueting-room — my  guests 
followed  gayly,  talking  and  jesting  among  themselves.  They 
were  all  in  high  good  humor,  none  of  them  had  as  yet  noticed 
the  fatal  blank  caused  by  the  absence  of  the  brothers  Respetti. 
I  had — for  the  number  of  my  guests  was  now  thirteen  instead 
of  fifteen.  Thirteen  at  table !  I  wondered  if  any  of  the  com- 
pany were  superstitious?  Ferrari  was  not,  I  knew,  unless  his 
nerves  had  been  latterly  shaken  by  witnessing  the  death  of  his 
uncle.  At  any  rate,  I  resolved  to  say  nothing  that  should 
attract  the  attention  of  my  guests  to  the  ill-omened  circum- 
stance ;  if  any  one  should  notice  it,  it  would  be  easy  to  make 
light  of  it  and  of  all  similar  superstitions.  I  myself  was  the 
I  one  most  affected  by  it — it  had  for  me  a  curious  and  fatal 
significance.  I  was  so  occupied  with  the  consideration  of  it 
that  I  scarcely  attended  to  the  words  addressed  to  me  by  the 
Duke  di  Marina,  who,  walking  beside  me,  seemed  disposed  to 
converse  with  more  familiarity  than  was  his  usual  custom. 
We  reached  the  door  of  the  dining-room ;  which  at  our  ap- 
proach was  thrown  wide  open,  and  delicious  strains  of  music 
met  our  ears  as  we  entered.  Low  murmurs  of  astonishment 
and  admiration  broke  from  all  the  gentlemen  as  they  viewed 
the  sumptuous  scene  before  them.  I  pretended  not  to  hear 
their  eulogies,  as  I  took  my  seat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  with 
Guido  Ferrari  on  my  right  and  the  Duke  di  Marina  on  my  left. 
The  music  sounded  louder  and  more  triumphant,  and  while  all 


2o8  vendetta!  ' 

the  company  were  seating  themselves  in  the  places  assigned 
to  them,  a  choir  of  young  fresh  voices  broke  forth  into  a 
Neapolitan  "  madrigale" — which  as  far  as  I  can  translate  it  ran 
as  follows : 

"  Welcome  the  festal  hour ! 
Pour  the  red  wine  into  cups  of  gold ! 
Health  to  the  men  who  are  strong  and  bold ! 

Welcome  the  festal  hour ! 
Waken  the.  echoes  with  riotous  mirth — 
Cease  to  remember  the  sorrows  of  earth 
:  In  the  joys  of  the  festal  hour ! 

Wine  is  the  monarch  of  laughter  and  light, 
Death  himself  shall  be  merry  to-night! 
Hail  to  the  festal  hour!" 

An  enthusiastic  clapping  of  hands  rewarded  this  effort  on 
the  part  of  the  unseen  vocalists,  and  the  music  having  ceased, 
conversation  became  general. 

"  By  Heaven  I"  exclaimed  Ferrari,  "  if  this  Olympian  carouse 
is  meant  as  a  welcome  to  me,  amico,  all  I  can  say  is  that  I  do 
not  deserve  it.  Why,  it  is  more  fit  for  the  welcome  of  one 
king  to  his  neighbor  sovereign !" 

"  Ebbene  !"  I  said.  "  Are  there  any  better  kings  than  honest 
men?  Let  us  hope  we  are  thus  far  worthy  of  each  other's 
esteem." 

He  flashed  a  bright  look  of  gratitude  upon  me  and  was 
silent,  listening  to  the  choice  and  complimentary  phrases 
uttered  by  the  Duke  di  Marina  concerning  the  exquisite  taste 
displayed  in  the  arrangement  of  the  table. 

"  You  have  no  doubt  traveled  much  in  the  East,  conte,"  said 
this  nobleman.  "  Your  banquet  reminds  me  of  an  Oriental 
romance  I  once  read,  called  'Vathek. '  " 

"  Exactly !"  exclaimed  Guido.  "  I  think  Oliva  must  be 
Vathek  himself !" 

"Scarcely!"  I  said,  smiling  coldly.  "I  lay  no  claim  to 
supernatural  experiences.  The  realities  of  life  are  sufficiently 
wonderful  for  me." 

Antonio  Biscardi,  the  painter,  a  refined,  gentle-featured  man, 
looked  toward  us  and  said  modestly: 

"  I  think  you  are  right,  conte.  The  beauties  of  nature  and 
of  humanity  are  so  varied  and  profound  that  were  it  not  for 
the  inextinguishable  longing  after  immortality  which  has  been 
placed  in  every  one  of  us,  I  think  we  should  be  perfectly 
satisfied  with  this  world  as  it  is." 


vendetta!  209 

"  You  speak  like  an  artist  and  a  man  of  even  temperament," 
broke  in  the  Marchese  Gualdro,  who  had  finished  his  soup 
quickly  in  order  to  be  able  to  talk — talking  being  his  chief 
delight.  "  For  me,  I  am  never  contented.  I  never  have 
enough  of  anything!  That  is  my  nature.  When  I  see  lovely 
flowers,  I  wish  more  of  them — when  I  behold  a  fine  sunset,  I 
desire  many  more  such  sunsets — when  I  look  upon  a  lovely 
woman — " 

"  You  would  have  lovely  women  ad  infinituvi !  "  laughed  the 
French  Capitaine  de  Hamal.  "  £n  vcritd,  Gualdro,  you  should 
have  been  a  Turk !" 

"  And  why  not?"  demanded  Gualdro.  "  The  Turks  are  very 
sensible  people — they  know  how  to  make  coffee  better  than 
we  do.  And  what  more  fascinating  than  a  harem?  It  must 
be  like  a  fragrant  hot-house,  where  one  is  free  to  wander  every 
day,  sometimes  gathering  a  gorgeous  lily,  sometimes  a  simple 
violet — sometimes — " 

"  A  thorn?"  suggested  Salustri. 

"Well,  perhaps!"  laughed  the  Marchese.  "Yet  one  would 
run  the  risk  of  that  for  the  sake  of  a  perfect  rose." 

Chevalier  Mancini,  who  wore  in  his  button-hole  the  decora- 
tion of  the  Legion  d'Honneur,  looked  up — he  was  a  thin  man 
with  keen  eyes  and  a  shrewd  face  which,  though  at  a  first  glance 
appeared  stern,  could  at  the  least  provocation  break  up  into  a 
thousand  little  wrinkles  of  laughter. 

"  There  is  undoubtedly  something  cntrainaTit  about  the  idea," 
he  observed,  in  his  methodical  way.  "  I  have  always  fancied 
that  marriage  as  we  arrange  it  is  a  great  mistake." 

"  And  that  is  why  you  have  never  tried  it?"  queried  Ferrari, 
looking  amused. 

"  Certissimamentc !"  and  the  chevalier's  grim  countenance 
began  to  work  with  satirical  humor.  "  I  have  resolved  that  I 
will  never  be  bound  over  by  the  law  to  kiss  only  one  woman. 
As  matters  stand,  I  can  kiss  them  all  if  I  like." 

A  shout  of  merriment  and  cries  of  "  Oh !  oh !"  greeted  this 
remark,  which  Ferrari,  however,  did  not  seem  inclined  to  take 
in  good  part. 

"  All.'"  he  said,  with  a  dubious  air.  "  You  mean  all  except 
the  married  ones?" 

The  chevalier  put  on  his  spectacles,  and  surveyed  him  with 
a  sort  of  comic  severity. 

"When  I  said  all,  I  meant  all."  he  returned— " the  married 


210  vendetta! 

ones  in  particular.  They,  poor  things,  need  such  attentions — 
and  often  invite  them — why  not?  Their  husbands  have  most 
likely  ceased  to  be  amorous  after  the  first  months  of  marriage." 

I  burst  out  laughing.  "  You  are  right,  Mancini,"  I  said ;  "  and 
even  if  the  husbands  are  fools  enough  to  continue  their  gal- 
lantries they  deserve  to  be  duped — and  they  generally  are ! 
Come,  amico !"  I  added,  turning  to  Ferrari,  "  those  are  your 
own  sentiments — you  have  often  declared  them  to  me." 

He  smiled  uncomfortably,  and  his  brows  contracted.  I 
tould  easily  perceive  that  he  was  annoyed.  To  change  the 
tone  of  the  conversation  I  gave  a  signal  for  the  music  to  re- 
commence, and  instantly  the  melody  of  a  slow,  voluptuous 
Hungarian  waltz-measure  floated  through  the  room.  The 
dinner  was  now  fairly  on  its  way ;  the  appetites  of  my  guests 
were  stimulated  and  tempted  by  the  choicest  and  most  savory 
viands,  prepared  with  all  the  taste  and  intelligence  a  first-rate 
chef  can  bestow  on  his  work,  and  good  wine  flowed  freely. 

Vincenzo,  obediently  following  my  instructions,  stood  be- 
hind my  chair,  and  seldom  moved  except  to  refill  Ferrari's 
glass,  and  occasionally  to  proffer  some  fresh  vintage  to  the 
Duke  di  Marina.  He,  however,  was  an  abstemious  and  care- 
ful man,  and  followed  the  good  example  shown  by  the  wisest 
Italians,  who  never  mix  their  wines.  He  remained  faithful 
to  the  first  beverage  he  had  selected — a  specially  fine  Chianti 
of  which  he  partook  freely  without  its  causing  the  slightest 
flush  to  appear  on  his  pale  aristocratic  features.  Its  warm  and 
mellow  flavor  did  but  brighten  his  eyes  and  loosen  his  tongue, 
inasmuch  that  he  became  almost  as  elegant  a  talker  as  the 
Marchese  Gualdro.  This  latter,  who  scarce  had  a  scudo  to  call 
vhis  own,  and  who  dined  sumptuously  every  day  at  other  peo- 
'  pie's  expense  for  the  sake  of  the  pleasure  his  company  afforded, 
was  by  this  time  entertaining  every  one  near  him  by  the  most 
sparkling  stories  and  witty  pleasantries. 

The  merriment  increased  as  the  various  courses  were  served ; 
shouts  of  laughter  frequently  interrupted  the  loud  buzz  of 
conversation,  mingling  with  the  clinking  of  glasses  and 
clattering  of  porcelain.  Every  now  and  then  might  be  heard 
the  smooth  voice  of  Captain  Freccia  rolling  out  his  favorite 
oaths  with  the  sonority  and  expression  of  a  prima  tenore; 
sometimes  the  elegant  French  of  the  Marquis  D'Avencourt, 
with  his  high,  sing-song  Parisian  accent,  rang  out  above  the 
voices  of  the  others ;  and  again  the  choice  Tuscan  of  the  poet 


vendetta!  211 

Luziano  Salustri  rolled  forth  in  melodious  cadence  as  though 
he  were  chanting  lines  from  Dante  or  Ariosto,  instead  of  talk- 
ing lightly  on  indifferent  matters.  I  accepted  my  share  in  the 
universal  hilarity,  though  I  principally  divided  my  conversa- 
tion between  Ferrari  and  the  duke,  paying  to  both,  but 
specially  to  Ferrari,  that  absolute  attention  which  is  the 
greatest  compliment  a  host  can  bestow  on  those  whom  he 
undertakes  to  entertain. 

We  had  reached  that  stage  of  the  banquet  when  the  game 
was  about  to  be  served — the  invisible  choir  of  boys'  voices 
had  just  completed  an  enchanting  storncUo  with  an  accom- 
paniment of  mandolines — when  a  stillness,  strange  and  un- 
accountable, fell  upon  the  company — a  pause — an  ominous 
hush,  as  though  some  person  supreme  in  authority  had  sud- 
denly entered  the  room  and  commanded  "  Silence !"  No  one 
seemed  disposed  to  speak  or  to  move,  the  very  footsteps  of 
the  waiters  were  muffled  in  the  velvet  pile  of  the  carpets — no 
sound  was  heard  but  the  measured  plash  of  the  fountain  that 
played  among  the  ferns  and  flowers.  The  moon,  shining 
frostily  white  through  the  one  uncurtained  window,  cast  a 
long  pale  green  ray,  like  the  extended  arm  of  an  appealing 
ghost,  against  one  side  of  the  velvet  hangings — a  spectral  effect 
which  was  heightened  by  the  contrast  of  the  garish  glitter  of 
the  waxen  tapers.  Each  man  looked  at  the  other  with  a  sort 
of  uncomfortable  embarrassment,  and  somehow,  though  I 
moved  my  lips  in  an  endeavor  to  speak  and  thus  break  the 
spell,  I  was  at  a  loss,  and  could  find  no  language  suitable  to 
the  moment.  Ferrari  toyed  with  his  wine-glass  mechanically 
— the  duke  appeared  absorbed  in  arranging  the  crumbs  beside 
his  plate  into  little  methodical  patterns ;  the  stillness  seemed 
to  last  so  long  that  it  was  like  a  suffocating  heaviness  in  the 
air.  Suddenly  Vincenzo,  in  his  office  of  chief  butler,  drew  the 
cork  of  a  champagne-bottle  with  a  loud-sounding  pop!  We 
all  started  as  though  a  pistol  had  been  fired  in  our  ears,  and 
the  Marchese  Gualdro  burst  out  laughing. 

"  Corpo  di  Bacco  !  "  he  cried.  "  At  last  you  have  awakened 
from  sleep!  Were  you  all  struck  dumb,  amici,  that  you  stared 
at  the  table-cloth  so  persistently  and  with  such  admirable 
gravity?  May  Saint  Anthony  and  his  pig  preserve  me,  but  for 
the  time  I  fancied  I  was  attending  a  banquet  on  the  wrong 
side  of  the  Styx,  and  that  you,  my  present  companions,  were 
all  dead  men  1" 


2  12  vendetta! 

"  And  that  idea  made  you  also  hold  your  tongue,  which  is 
quite  an  unaccountable  miracle  in  its  way,"  laughed  Luziano 
Salustri.  "  Have  you  never  heard  the  pretty  legend  that 
attaches  to  such  an  occurrence  as  a  sudden  silence  in  the  midst 
of  high  festivity?  An  angel  enters,  bestowing  his  benediction 
as  he  passes  through." 

"  That  story  is  more  ancient  than  the  church,"  said  Chevalier 
Mancini.  "  It  is  an  exploded  theory — for  we  have  ceased  to 
believe  in  angels — we  call  them  women  instead." 

"Bravo,  mo7i  vieux  gaillard!"  cried  Captain  de  Hamal. 
"  Your  sentiments  are  the  same  as  mine,  with  a  very  trifling 
difference.  You  believe  women  to  be  angels — I  know  them 
to  be  devils — mais  il  ny  a  qii  im pas  entrd  les  deux  !  We  will 
not  quarrel  over  a  word — a  voire  santd  man  cher  !  " 

And  he  drained  his  glass,  nodding  to  Mancini,  who  followed 
his  example. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  the  smooth,  slow  voice  of  Captain  Freccia, 
"  our  silence  was  caused  by  the  instinctive  consciousness  of 
something  wrong  with  our  party — a  little  inequality — which 
I  dare  say  our  noble  host  has  not  thought  it  worth  while  to 
mention." 

Every  head  was  turned  in  his  direction.  "  What  do  you 
mean?"  "What  inequality?"  "Explain  yourself!"  chorused 
several  voices. 

"Really  it  is  a  mere  nothing,"  answered  Freccia,  lazily,  as 
he  surveyed  with  the  admiring  air  of  a.  gourmet  the  dainty  por- 
tion of  pheasant  just  placed  before  him.  "  I  assure  you,  only 
the  uneducated  would  care  two  scudi  about  such  a  circum- 
stance. The  excellent  brothers  Respetti  are  to  blame — their 
absence  to-night  has  caused — but  why  should  I  disturb  your 
equanimity?  /am  not  superstitious — via  chi  sa  1 — some  of  you 
may  be." 

"  I  see  what  you  mean !"  interrupted  Salustri,  quickly.  "  We 
are  thirteen  at  table !" 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

At  this  announcement  my  guests  looked  furtively  at  each 
other,  and  I  could  see  they  were  counting  up  the  fatal  number 
for  themselves.  They  were  undeniably  clever,  cultivated 
men  of  the  world,  but  the  superstitious  element  was  in  their 


vendetta!  21 J 

blood,  and  all,  with  the  exception  perhaps  of  Freccia  and  the 
ever-cool  Marquis  D'Avencourt,  were  evidently  rendered  un-* 
easy  by  the  fact  now  discovered.  On  P'errari  it  had  a  curious 
effect — he  started  violently  and  his  face  flushed.  "  Diavolo!" 
he  muttered,  under  his  breath,  and  seizing  his  never-empty 
glass,  he  swallowed  its  contents  thirstily  and  quickly  at  one 
gulp  as  though  attacked  by  fever,  and  pushed  away  his  plate 
with  a  hand  that  trembled  nervously.  I,  meanwhile,  raised 
my  voice  and  addressed  my  guests  cheerfully : 

"  Our  distinguished  friend  Salustri  is  perfectly  right,  gentle- 
men. I  myself  noticed  the  discrepancy  in  our  number  some 
time  ago — but  I  knew  thatyou  were  all  advanced  thinkers,  who 
had  long  since  liberated  yourselves  from  the  trammels  of 
superstitious  observances,  which  are  the  result  of  priestcraft, 
and  are  now  left  solely  to  the  vulgar.  Therefore  I  said  noth- 
ing. The  silly  notion  of  any  misfortune  attending  the  num- 
ber thirteen  arose,  as  you  are  aware,  out  of  the  story  of  the 
Last  Supper,  and  children  and  women  may  possibly  still  give 
credence  to  the  fancy  that  one  out  of  thirteen  at  table  must  be 
a  traitor  and  doomed  to  die.  But  we  men  know  better.  None 
of  us  here  to-night  have  reason  to  put  ourselves  in  the  position 
of  a  Christ  or  a  Judas — we  are  all  good  friends  and  boon  com- 
panions, and  I  can  not  suppose  for  a  moment  that  this  little 
cloud  can  possibly  affect  you  seriously.  Remember  also  that 
this  is  Christmas-eve,  and  that  according  to  the  world's  great- 
est poet,  Shakespeare, 

'"Then  no  planet  strikes. 
No  fairy  takes,  nor  witch  hath  power  to  charm, 
So  hallowed  and  so  gracious  is  the  time. '  " 

A  murmur  of  applause  and  a  hearty  clapping  of  hands  re- 
warded this  little  speech,  and  the  Marchese  Gualdro  sprung 
to  his  feet — 

"  By  Heaven !"  he  exclaimed,  "  we  are  not  a  party  of  terrified 
old  women  to  shiver  on  the  edge  of  a  worn-out  omen !  Fill 
your  glasses,  signori!  More  wine,  garQon!  Per  Bacco!  if 
Judas  Iscariot  himself  had  such  a  feast  as  ours  before  he 
hanged  himself,  he  was  not  much  to  be  pitied!  Hola,  amici.' 
To  the  health  of  our  noble  host,  Conte  Cesare  Oliva!" 

He  waved  his  glass  in  the  air  three  times — every  one  fol- 
lowed his  example  and  drank  the  toast  with  enthusiasm.  I 
bowed  my  thanks    and  acknowledgments — and    the    super- 


214  vendetta! 

stitious  dread  which  at  first  had  undoubtedly  seized  the  com- 
pany passed  away  quickly— the  talking,  the  merriment,  and 
laughter  were  resumed,  and  soon  it  seemed  as  though  the 
untoward  circumstances  were  entirely  forgotten.  Only  Guido 
Ferrari  seemed  still  somewhat  disturbed  in  his  mind — but 
even  his  uneasiness  dissipated  itself  by  degrees,  and  heated 
by  the  quantity  of  wine  he  had  taken,  he  began  to  talk  with 
boastful  braggartism  of  his  many  successful  gallantries,  and 
related  his  most  questionable  anecdotes  in  such  a  manner  as 
to  cause  some  haughty  astonishment  in  the  mind  of  the  Duke 
di  Marina,  who  eyed  him  from  time  to  time  with  ill-disguised 
impatience  that  bordered  on  contempt.  I,  on  the  contrary, 
listened  to  everything  he  said  with  urbane  courtesy — I 
humored  him  and  drew  him  out  as  much  as  possible — I  smiled 
complacently  at  his  poor  jokes  and  vulgar  witticisms — and 
when  he  said  something  that  was  more  than  usually  out- 
rageous, I  contented  myself  with  a  benevolent  shake  of  my 
head,  and  the  mild  remark : 

"  Ah !  young  blood !  young  blood !"  uttered  in  a  bland  sotto 
voce. 

The  dessert  was  now  served,  and  with  it  came  the  costly 
wines  which  I  had  ordered  to  be  kept  back  till  then.  Price- 
less "  Chateau  Yquem,"  "  Clos  Vougeot,"  of  the  rarest  vintages, 
choice  "  Valpulcello"  and  an  exceedingly  superb  "  Lacrima 
Cristi" — one  after  the  other,  these  were  tasted,  criticised,  and 
heartily  appreciated.  There  was  also  a  very  unique  brand  of 
champagne  costing  nearly  forty  francs  a  bottle,  which  was 
sparkling  and  mellow  to  the  palate,  but  fiery  in  quality.  This 
particular  beverage  was  so  seductive  in  flavor  that  every  one 
partook  of  it  freely,  with  the  result  that  the  most  discreet 
among  the  party  now  became  the  most  uproarious.  Antonio 
Biscardi,  the  quiet  and  unobtrusive  painter,  together  with  his 
fellow-student,  Crispiano  Dulci,  usually  the  shyest  of  young 
men,  suddenly  grew  excited,  and  uttered  blatant  nothings 
concerning  their  art.  Captain  Freccia  argued  the  niceties  of 
sword-play  with  the  Marquis  D'Avencourt,  both  speakers 
illustrating  their  various  points  by  thrusting  their  dessert- 
knives  skillfully  into  the  pulpy  bodies  of  the  peaches  they  had 
on  thair  plates.  Luziano  Salustri  lay  back  at  ease  in  his  chair, 
his  qlassic  head  reclining  on  the  velvet  cushions,  and  recited 
in  low  and  measured  tones  one  of  his  own  poems,  caring  little 
pr  pothing^  whether  his  neighbors  attended  to  hjm  or  not. 


vendetta!  215 

The  glib  tongue  of  the  Marchese  Gualclro  ran  on  smoothly  and 
incessantly,  though  he  frequently  lost  the  thread  of  his  anec- 
dotes and  became  involved  in  a  maze  of  contradictory  asser- 
tions. The  rather  large  nose  of  the  Chevalier  Mancini 
reddened  visibly  as  he  laughed  joyously  to  himself  at  nothing 
in  particular— in  short,  the  table  had  become  a  glittering 
whirlpool  of  excitement  and  feverish  folly,  which  at  a  mere 
touch,  or  word  out  of  season,  might  rise  to  a  raging  storm  of 
frothy  dissension.  The  Duke  di  Marcina  and  myself  alone  of 
all  the  company  were  composed  as  usual — he  had  resisted  the 
champagne,  and  as  for  me,  I  had  let  all  the  splendid  wines  go 
past  me,  and  had  not  taken  more  than  two  glasses  of  a  mild 
Chianti. 

I  glanced  keenly  round  the  riotous  board— I  noted  the  flushed 
faces  and  rapid  gesticulations  of  my  guests,  and  listened  to 
the  Babel  of  conflicting  tongues.  I  drew  a  long  breath  as  I 
looked — I  calculated  that  in  two  or  three  minutes  at  the  very 
least  I  might  throw  down  the  trump  card  I  had  held  so 
patiently  in  my  hand  all  the  evening. 

I  took  a  close  observation  of  Ferrari.  He  had  edged  his 
chair  a  little  away  from  mine,  and  was  talking  confidentially  to 
his  neighbor,  Captain  de  Hamal — his  utterance  was  low  and 
thick,  but  yet  I  distinctly  heard  him  enumerating  in  some- 
what coarse  language  the  exterior  charms  of  a  woman — luhat 
woman  I  did  not  stop  to  consider — the  burning  idea  struck  me 
that  he  was  describing  the  physical  perfections  of  my  wife  to 
this  De  Hamal,  a  mere  spadaccino,  for  whom  there  was  nothing 
sacred  in  heaven  or  earth.  My  blood  rapidly  heated  itself  to 
boiling  point — to  this  day  I  remember  how  it  throbbed  in  my 
temples,  leaving  my  hands  and  feet  icy  cold.  I  rose  in  my 
seat,  and  tapped  on  the  table  to  call  for  silence  and  attention 
— but  for  some  time  the  noise  of  argument  and  the  clatter  of 
tongues  were  so  great  that  I  could  not  make  myself  heard. 
The  duke  endeavored  to  second  my  efforts,  but  in  vain.  At 
last  Ferrari's  notice  was  attracted — he  turned  round,  and  seiz- 
ing a  dessert  knife  beat  with  it  on  the  table  and  on  his  own 
plate  so  noisily  and  persistently  that  the  loud  laughter  and 
conversation  ceased  suddenly.  The  moment  had  come — I 
raised  my  head,  fixed  my  spectacles  more  firmly  over  my  eyes, 
and  spoke  in  distinct  and  steady  tones,  first  of  all  stealing  a 
covert  glance  toward  Ferrari.  He  had  sunk  back  again  lazily 
in  his  chair  and  was  lighting  a  cigarette, 


2i6  vendetta!  s 

"My  friends,"  I  said,  meeting  with  a  smile  the  inquiring 
looks  that  wefe  directed  toward  me,  "  I  have  presumed  to  in- 
terrupt your  mii-th  for  a  moment,  not  to  restrain  it,  but  rather 
to  give  it  a  fresh  impetus.  I  asked  you  all  here  to-night,  as 
you  know,  to  honor  me  by  your  presence  and  to  give  a  wel- 
come to  our  mutual  friend.  Signer  Guido  Ferrari."  Here  I 
was  interrupted  by  a  loud  clapping  of  hands  and  ejaculations 
of  approval,  while  Ferrari  himself  murmured  affably  between 
two  puffs  of  his  cigarette,  "  Tropp'  onore,  amico,  tropf  onore!" 
I  resumed,  "  This  young  and  accomplished  gentleman,  who  is, 
I  believe,  a  favorite  with  you  all,  has  been  compelled  through 
domestic  affairs  to  absent  himself  from  our  circle  for  the  past 
few  weeks,  and  I  think  he  must  himself  be  aware  how  much 
we  have  missed  his  pleasant  company.  It  will,  however,  be 
agreeable  to  you,  as  it  has  been  for  me,  to  know  that  he  has 
returned  to  Naples  a  richer  man  than  when  he  left  it — that 
fortune  has  done  him  justice,  and  that  with  the  possession  of 
abundant  wealth  he  is  at  last  called  upon  to  enjoy  tha  reward 
due  to  his  merits!" 

Here  there  was  more  clapping  of  hands  and  exclamations  of 
pleasure,  while  those  who  were  seated  near  Ferrari  raised 
their  glasses  and  drank  to  his  health  with  congratulations,  all 
of  which  courtesies  he  acknowledged  by  a  nonchalant,  self- 
satisfied  bow.  I  glanced  at  him  again — how  tranquil  he 
looked ! — reclining  among  the  crimson  cushions  of  his  chair,  a 
brimming  glass  of  champagne  beside  him,  the  cigarette  be- 
tween his  lips,  and  his  handsome  face  slightly  upturned, 
though  his  eyes  rested  half  drowsily  on  the  uncurtained  win- 
dow through  which  the  Bay  of  Naples  was  seen  glittering  in 
the  moonlight. 

I  continued:  "It  was,  gentlemen,  that  you  might  welcome 
and  congratulate  Signer  Ferrari  as  you  have  done,  that  I  as- 
sembled you  here  to-night — or  rather,  let  njie  say  it  vfa.s  partly 
the  object  of  our  present  festivity — but  there  is  yet  another 
reason  which  I  shall  now  have  the  pleasure  of  explaining  to 
you — a  reason  which,  as  it  concerns  myself  and  my  immediate 
happiness,  will,  I  feel  confident,  secure  your  sympathy  and 
good  wishes." 

This  time  every  one  was  silent,  intently  following  my 
words. 

"What  I  am  about  to  say,"  I  went  on,  calmly,  "may  very 
possibly  surprise  you.     I  have  been  known  to  you  as  a  man  of 


'  vendetta!  217 

few  words,  and,  I  fear,  of  abrupt  and  brusque  manners"— cries 
of  "No,  no!"  mingled  with  various  complimentary  assurances 
reached  my  ears  from  all  sides  of  the  table.  I  bowed  with  a 
gratified  air,  and  when  silence  was  restored—"  At  any  rate  you 
would  not  think  me  precisely  the  sort  of  man  to  take  a  lady's 
fancy."  A  look  of  wonder  and  curiosity  was  now  exchanged 
among  my  guests.  Ferrari  took  his  cigarette  out  of  his  mouth 
and  stared  at  me  in  blank  astonishment. 

"No,"  I  went  on,  meditatively,  "old  as  I  am,  and  a  half- 
blind  invalid  besides,  it  seems  incredible  that  any  woman 
should  care  to  look  at  me  more  than  twice  en  passant.  But  I 
have  met — let  me  say  with  the  Chevalier  Mancini — an  angel — 
who  has  found  me  not  displeasing  to  her,  and — in  short — I  am 
going  to  marry !" 

There  was  a  pause.  Ferrari  raised  himself  slightly  from  his 
reclining  position  and  seemed  about  to  speak,  but  apparently 
changing  his  mind  he  remained  silent — his  face  had  somewhat 
paled.  The  momentary  hesitation  among  my  guests  passed 
quickly.  All  present,  except  Guido,  broke  out  into  a  chorus 
of  congratulations,  mingled  with  good-humored  jesting  and 
laughter. 

"Say  farewell  to  jollity,  conte!"  cried  Chevalier  Mancini; 
"  once  drawn  along  by  the  rustling  music  of  a  woman's  gown, 
no  more  such  feasts  as  we  have  had  to-night." 

And  he  shook  his  head  with  tipsy  melancholy. 

"  By  all  the  gods !"  exclaimed  Gualdro,  "  your  news  has  sur- 
prised me !  I  should  have  thought  you  were  the  last  man  to 
give  up  liberty  for  the  sake  of  a  woman.  One  woman,  too ! 
Why,  man,  freedom  could  give  you  twenty !" 

"Ah!"  murmured  Salustri,  softly  and  sentimentally,  "but 
the  one  perfect  pearl — the  one  flawless  diamond — " 

"  Bah !  Salustri,  caro  mio,  you  are  half  asleep !"  returned 
Gualdro.  "  'Tis  the  wine  talks,  not  you.  Thou  art  conquered 
by  the  bottle,  a/nico.  You,  the  darling  of  all  the  women  in 
Naples,  to  talk  of  one  !    Buona  notte,  bambino  !" 

I  still  maintained  my  standing  position,  leaning  my  two 
hands  on  the  table  before  me. 

"  What  our  worthy  Gualdro  says,"  I  went  on,  "  is  perfectly 
true.  I  have  been  noted  for  my  antipathy  to  the  fair  sex.  I 
know  it.  But  when  one  of  the  loveliest  among  women  comes 
out  of  her  way  to  tempt  me — when  she  herself  displays  the 
matchless  store  of  her  countless  fascinations  for  my  attraction 


2i8  vendetta!  • 

— when  she  honors  me  by  special  favors  and  makes  me  plainly 
aware  that  I  am  not  too  presumptuous  in  venturing  to  aspire 
to  her  hand  in  marriage — what  can  I  do  but  accept  with  a  good 
grace  the  fortune  thrown  to  me  by  Providence?  I  should  be 
the  most  ungrateful  of  men  were  I  to  refuse  so  precious  a  gift 
from  Heaven,  and  1  confess  I  feel  no  inclination  to  reject  what 
I  consider  to  be  the  certainty  of  happiness.  I  therefore  ask 
you  all  to  fill  your  glasses,  and  do  me  the  favor  to  drink  to 
the  health  and  happiness  of  my  future  bride." 

Gualdro  sprung  erect,  his  glass  held  high  in  the  air;  every 
man  followed  his  example.  Ferrari  rose  to  his  feet  with  some 
unsteadiness,  while  the  hand  that  held  his  full  champagne 
glass  trembled. 

The  Duke  di  Marina,  with  a  courteous  gesture,  addressed 
me :  "  You  will,  of  course,  honor  us  by  disclosing  the  name 
of  the  fair  lady  whom  we  are  prepared  to  toast  with  all  befit- 
ting reverence?" 

"I  was  about  to  ask  the  same  question,"  said  Ferrari,  in 
hoarse  accents — his  lips  were  dry,  and  he  appeared  to  have 
some  difficulty  in  speaking.  "  Possibly  we  are  not  acquainted 
with  her?" 

"On  the  contrary,"  I  returned,  eying  him  steadily  with  a 
cool  smile.  "  You  all  know  her  name  well !  Illustrisswii 
iignori!"  and  my  voice  rang  out  clearly — "to  the  health  of 
my  betrothed  wife,  the  Contessa  Roinani !" 

"  Liar  !"  shouted  Ferrari — and  with  all  a  madman's  fury  he 
dashed  his  brimming  glass  of  champagne  full  in  my  face !  In 
a  second  the  wildest  scene  of  confusion  ensued.  Every  man 
left  his  place  at  table  and  surrounded  us.  I  stood  erect  and 
perfectly  calm — wiping  with  my  handkerchief  the  little  run- 
lets of  wine  that  dripped  from  my  clothing — the  glass  had 
fallen  at  my  feet,  striking  the  table  as  it  fell  and  splitting 
itself  to  atoms. 

"  Are  you  drunk  or  mad,  Ferrari?"  cried  Captain  de  Hamal, 
seizing  him  by  the  arm — "  do  you  know  what  you  have  done?" 

Ferrari  glared  about  him  like  a  tiger  at  bay — his  face  was 
flushed  and  swollen  like  that  of  a  man  in  apoplexy — the  veins 
in  his  forehead  stood  out  like  knotted  cords — his  breath  came 
and  went  hard  as  though  he  had  been  running.  He  turned  his 
rolling  eyes  upon  me.  "  Damn  you !"  he  muttered  through 
his  clinched  teeth — then  suddenly  raising  his  voice  to  a  posi- 
tive shriek,  he  cjied,  "  I  will  have  your  blood  if  I  have  to  te«ir 


vendetta!  219 

your  heart  for  it  '."—and  he  made  an  effort  to  spring  upon  me. 
The  Marquis  D'Avencourt  quietly  caught  his  other  arm  and 
held  it  as  in  a  vise. 

"  Not  so  fast,  not  so  fast,  moncher  !"  he  said,  coolly.  "  We 
are  not  murderers,  we !  What  devil  possesses  you,  that  you 
offer  such  unwarrantable  insult  to  our  host?" 

"Ask  him!"  replied  Ferrari,  fiercely,  struggling  to  release 
himself  from  the  grasp  of  the  two  Frenchmen — "  he  knows, 
well  enough !     Ask  him  !  " 

All  eyes  were  turned  inquiringly  upon  me.     I  was  silent. 

"  The  noble  conte  is  really  not  bound  to  give  any  explana- 
tion," remarked  Captain  Freccia— "  even  admitting  he  were 
able  to  do  so." 

"  I  assure  you,  my  friends,"  I  said,  "  I  am  ignorant  of  the 
cause  of  this  fracas,  except  that  this  young  gentleman  had 
pretensions  himself  to  the  hand  of  the  lady  whose  name  affects 
him  so  seriously !" 

For  a  moment  I  thought  Ferrari  would  have  choked. 

"Pretensions — pretensions!"  he  gasped.  "  Gran  Dio !  Hear 
him ! — hear  the  miserable  scoundrel !" 

"  Ah,  basta  !  "  exclaimed  Chevalier  Mancini,  scornfully — "  is 
that  all?  A  mere  bagatelle !  Ferrari,  you  were  wont  to  be 
more  sensible !  What !  quarrel  with  an  excellent  friend  for 
the  sake  of  a  woman  who  happens  to  prefer  him  to  you !  Ma 
ch6!    Women  are  plentiful — friends  are  few." 

"  If,"  I  resumed,  still  methodically  wiping  the  stains  of  wine 
from  my  coat  and  vest — "  if  Signor  Ferrari's  extraordinary 
display  of  temper  is  a  mere  outcome  of  natural  disappoint- 
ment, I  am  willing  to  excuse  it.  He  is  young  and  hot-blooded 
— let  him  apologize,  and  I  shall  freely  pardon  him." 

"  By  my  faith !"  said  the  Duke  di  Marina  with  indignation, 
"  such  generosity  is  unheard  of,  conte !  Permit  me  to  remark 
that  it  is  altogether  exceptional  after  such  ungentlemanly 
conduct." 

Ferrari  looked  from  one  to  the  other  in  silent  fury.  His 
face  had  grown  pale  as  death.  He  wrenched  himself  from  the 
grasp  of  D'Avencourt  and  De  Hamal. 

"  Fools !  let  me  go !"  he  said,  savagely.  "  None  of  you  are 
on  my  side — I  see  that!"  He  stepped  to  the  table,  poured  out 
a  glass  of  water  and  drank  it  off.  He  then  turned  and  faced 
me — his  head  thrown  back,  his  eyes  blazing  with  wrath  and 
pain. 


220  vendetta! 

"Liar!"  he  exclaimed  again,  "double-faced  accursed  liar! 
You  have  stolen  her — you  have  fooled  me — but,  by  G — d,  you 
shall  pay  for  it  with  your  life !" 

"  Willingly!"  I  said,  with  a  mocking  smile,  restraining  by  a 
gesture  the  hasty  exclamations  of  those  around  me  who  re- 
sented this  fresh  attack — "most  willingly,  caro  signor!  But 
excuse  me  if  I  fail  to  see  wherein  you  consider  yourself 
wronged.  The  lady  who  is  now  \\\y  fiancie  has  not  the  slight- 
est affection  for  you — she  told  me  so  herself.  Had  she  enter- 
tained any  such  feelings  I  might  have  withdrawn  my  proposals 
— but  as  matters  stand,  what  harm  have  I  done  you?" 

A  chorus  of  indignant  voices  interrupted  me.  "  Shame  on 
you,  Ferrari !"  cried  Gualdro.  "  The  count  speaks  like  a  gen- 
tleman and  a  man  of  honor.  Were  I  in  his  place  you  should 
have  had  no  word  of  explanation  whatever.  I  could  not  have 
condescended  to  parley  with  you — by  Heaven  I  would  not!" 

"  Nor  I !"  said  the  duke,  stiffly. 

"  Nor  I !"  said  Mancini. 

"  Surely,"  said  Luziano  Salustri,  "  Ferrari  will  make  the 
amende  honorable" 

There  was  a  pause.  Each  man  looked  at  Ferrari  with  some 
anxiety.  The  suddenness  of  the  quarrel  had  sobered  the 
whole  party  more  effectually  than  a  cold  douche.  Ferrari's 
face  grew  more  and  more  livid  till  his  very  lips  turned  a 
ghastly  blue — he  laughed  aloud  in  bitter  scorn.  Then,  walk- 
ing steadily  up  to  me,  with  his  eyes  full  of  baffled  vindictive- 
ness,  he  said,  in  a  low  clear  tone : 

"  You  say  that— you  say  she  never  cared  for  me— you  !  and  / 
am  to  apologize  to  you !  Thief,  coward,  traitor— take  that  for 
my  apology!"  And  he  struck  me  across  the  mouth  with  his 
bare  hand  so  fiercely  that  the  diamond  ring  he  wore  {my 
diamond  ring)  cut  my  flesh  and  slightly  drew  blood.  A  shout 
of  anger  broke  from  all  present!  I  turned  to  the  Marquis 
D'Avencourt. 

"  There  can  be  but  one  answer  to  this,"  I  said,  with  indiffer- 
ent coldness.  "  Signor  Ferrari  has  brought  it  on  himself. 
Marquis,  will  you  do  me  the  honor  to  arrange  the  affair?" 

The  marquis  bowed,  "  I  shall  be  most  happy !" 

Ferrari  glared  about  him  for  a  moment  and  then  said, 
"  Freccia,  you  will  second  me?" 

Captain  Freccia  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  You  must  posi- 
tively excuse  me,"  he  said.    "  My  conscience  will  not  permit 


vendetta!  221 

me  to  take  up  such  a  remarkably  wrong  cause  as  yours,  caro 
7/iio  !  I  shall  be  pleased  to  act  with  D' Avencourt  for  the  count, 
if  he  will  permit  me." 

The  marquis  received  him  with  cordiality,  and  the  two 
engaged  in  earnest  conversation.  Ferrari  next  proffered  his 
request  to  his  quondam  friend  De  Hamal,  who  also  declined 
to  second  him,  as  did  every  one  among  the  company.  He 
bit  his  lips  in  mortification  and  wounded  vanity,  and  seemed 
hesitating  what  to  do  next,  when  the  marquis  approached  him 
with  frigid  courtesy  and  appeared  to  offer  him  some  sugges- 
tions in  a  low  tone  of  voice — for  after  a  few  minutes'  converse, 
Ferrari  suddenly  turned  on  his  heel  and  abruptly  left  the 
room  without  another  word  or  look.  At  the  same  instant  I 
touched  Vincenzo,  who,  obedient  to  his  orders,  had  remained 
an  impassive  but  evidently  astonished  spectator  of  all  that 
passed,  and  whispered — "  Follow  that  man  and  do  not  let  him 
see  you."  He  obeyed  so  instantly  that  the  door  had  scarcely 
closed  upon  Ferrari  when  Vincenzo  had  also  disappeared. 
The  Marquis  D 'Avencourt  now  came  up  to  me, 

"  Your  opponent  has  gone  to  find  two  seconds,"  he  said. 
"  As  you  perceived,  no  one  here  would  or  could  support  him. 
It  is  a  most  unfortunate  affair." 

"  Most  unfortunate,"  chorused  De  Hamal,  who,  though  not  it. 
it,  appeared  thoroughly  to  enjoy  it." 

"For  my  part,"  said  the  Duke  di  Marina,  "  I  wonder  how 
our  noble  friend  could  be  so  lenient  with  such  a  young  puppy. 
His  conceit  is  insufferable !" 

Others  around  me  made  similar  remarks,  and  were  evi- 
dently anxious  to  show  how  entirely  they  were  on  my  side. 
I  however  remained  silent,  lest  they  should  see  how  gratified 
I  was  at  the  success  of  my  scheme.  The  marquis  addressed 
me  again : 

"  While  awaiting  the  other  seconds,  who  are  to  find  us 
here,"  he  said,  with  a  glance  at  his  watch,  "  Freccia  and  I 
have  arranged  a  few  preliminaries.  It  is  now  nearly  mid- 
night. We  propose  that  the  affair  should  come  off  in  the 
morning  at  six  precisely.     Will  that  suit  you?" 

I  bowed. 

"  As  the  insulted  party  you  have  the  choice  of  weapons. 
Shall  we  say — " 

"  Pistols,"  I  replied  briefly. 

"A  la  bonne  heure!    Then,  suppose  we  fix  upon  the  plot  of 


222  vendetta! 

open  ground  just  behind  the  hill  to  the  left  of  the  Casa  Ghir- 
lande — between  that  and  the  Villa  Romani — it  is  quiet  and 
secluded,  and  there  will  be  no  fear  of  interruption," 

I  bowed  again. 

"Thus  it  stands,"  continued  the  marquis,  affably — "the 
hour  of  six — the  weapons  pistols — the  paces  to  be  decided 
hereafter  when  the  other  seconds  arrive." 

I  professed  myself  entirely  satisfied  with  these  arrange- 
ments, and  shook  hands  with  my  amiable  coadjutor.  I  then 
looked  round  at  the  rest  of  the  assembled  company  with  a 
smile  at  their  troubled  faces. 

"  Gentlemen,"  I  said,  "our  feast  has  broken  up  in  a  rather 
disagreeable  manner — and  I  am  sorry  for  it,  the  more  especially 
as  it  compels  me  to  part  from  you.  Receive  my  thanks  for 
your  company,  and  for  the  friendship  you  have  displayed 
toward  me !  I  do  not  believe  that  this  is  the  last  time  I  shall 
have  the  honor  of  entertaining  you — but  if  it  should  be  so,  I 
shall  at  any  rate  carry  a  pleasant  remembrance  of  you  into 
the  next  world!  If  on  the  contrary  I  should  survive  the 
combat  of  the  morning,  I  hope  to  see  you  all  again  on  my 
marriage-day,  when  nothing  shall  occur  to  mar  our  merriment. 
In  the  mean  time — good-night!" 

They  closed  round  me,  pressing  my  hands  warmly  and  as- 
suring me  of  their  entire  sympathy  with  me  in  the  quarrel  that 
had  occurred.  The  duke  was  especially  cordial,  giving  me  to 
understand  that  had  the  others  failed  in  their  services,  he 
himself,  in  spite  of  his  dignity  and  peace-loving  disposition, 
wua'd  have  volunteered  as  my  second.  I  escaped  from  them 
all  at  last  and  reached  the  quiet  of  my  own  apartments. 
There  I  sat  alone  for  more  than  an  hour,  waiting  for  the  re- 
turn of  Vincenzo,  whom  I  had  sent  to  track  Ferrari.  I  heard 
the  departing  footsteps  of  my  guests  as  they  left  the  hotel  by 
twos  and  threes — I  heard  the  equable  voices  of  the  marquis 
and  Captain  Freccia  ordering  hot  coffee  to  be  served  to  them 
in  a  private  room  where  they  were  to  await  the  other  seconds 
— now  and  then  I  caught  a  few  words  of  the  excited  language 
of  the  waiters  who  were  volubly  discussing  the  affair  as  they 
cleared  away  the  remains  of  the  superb  feast  at  which, 
though  no  one  knew  it  save  myself,  death  had  been  seated. 
Thirteen  at  table !  One  was  a  traitor  and  one  must  die.  I 
knew  which  one.  No  presentiment  lurked  in  my  mind  as  to 
the  doubtful  result  of  the  coming  combat.     It  was  not  my  lot 


vendetta!  223 

to  fall — my  time  had  not  come  yet — I  felt  certain  of  that! 
No!  All  the  fateful  forces  of  the  universe  would  help  me  to 
keep  alive  till  my  vengeance  was  fulfilled.  Oh,  what  bitter 
shafts  of  agony  Ferrari  carried  in  his  heart  at  that  moment,  I 
thought.  Hmu  he  had  looked  when  I  said  she  never  cared  for 
him!  Poor  wretch!  I  pitied  him  even  while  I  rejoiced  at  his 
torture.  He  suffered  now  as  I  had  suffered — he  was  duped  as 
I  had  been  duped — and  each  quiver  of  his  convulsed  face  and 
tormented  frame  had  been  fraught  with  satisfaction  to  me ! 
Each  moment  of  his  life  was  now  a  pang  to  him.  Well !  it 
would  soon  be  over — thus  far  at  least  I  was  merciful.  I  drew 
out  pens  and  paper  and  commenced  to  write  a  few  last  instruc- 
tions, in  case  the  result  of  the  fight  should  be  fatal  to  me.  I 
made  them  very  concise  and  brief — I  knew,  while  writing,  that 
they  would  not  be  needed.  Still— for  the  sake  of  form  I  wrote 
— and  sealing  the  document,  I  directed  it  to  the  Duke  di 
Marina.  I  looked  at  my  watch — it  was  past  one  o'clock  and 
Vincenzo  had  not  yet  returned.  I  went  to  the  window,  and 
drawing  back  the  curtains  surveyed  the  exquisitely  peaceful 
scene  that  lay  before  me.  The  moon  was  still  high  and  bright 
— and  her  reflection  made  the  waters  of  the  bay  appear  like  a 
warrior's  coat  of  mail  woven  from  a  thousand  glittering  links 
of  polished  steel.  Here  and  there,  from  the  masts  of  anchored 
brigs  and  fishing-boats,  gleamed  a  few  red  and  green  lights 
burning  dimly  like  fallen  and  expiring  stars.  There  was  a 
heavy  imnatural  silence  everywhere — it  oppressed  me,  and  I 
threw  the  window  wide  open  for  air.  Then  came  the  sound 
of  bells  chiming  softly.  People  passed  to  and  fro  with  quiet 
footsteps — some  paused  to  exchange  friendly  greetings.  I 
remembered  the  day  with  a  sort  of  pang  at  my  heart.  The 
night  was  over,  though  as  yet  there  was  no  sign  of  dawn — and 
— it  was  Christmas  morning ! 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

The  opening  of  the  room  door  aroused  me  from  my  medita- 
tions. I  turned — to  find  Vincenzo  standing  near  me  hat  in 
hand — he  had  just  entered. 

"  Ebbcne  !  "  I  said,  with  a  cheerful  air — "  what  news?" 
"  Eccellenza,  you  have  been   obeyed.     The   young  Signer 
Ferrari  is  now  at  his  studio." 


224  vendetta!  1 

"  You  left  him  there?" 

"  Yes,  eccellenza  " — and  Vincenzo  proceeded  to  give  me  a 
graphic  account  of  his  adventures.  On  leaving  the  banqueting- 
room,  Ferrari  had  taken  a  carriage  and  driven  straight  to  the 
Villa  Romani — Vincenzo,  unperceived,  had  swung  himself  on 
to  the  back  of  the  vehicle  and  had  gone  also. 

"Arriving  there,"  continued  my  valet,  "he  dismissed  the 
fiacre — and  rang  the  gate-bell  furiously  six  or  seven  times. 
No  one  answered.  I  hid  myself  among  the  trees  and  watched. 
There  were  no  lights  in  the  villa  windows — all  was  darkness. 
He  rang  it  again — he  even  shook  the  gate  as  though  he  would 
break  it  open.  At  last  the  poor  Giacomo  came,  half  undressed 
and  holding  a  lantern  in  his  hand — he  seemed  terrified,  and 
trembled  so  much  that  the  lantern  jogged  up  and  down  like  a 
corpse-candle  on  a  tomb. 

"  '  I  must  see  the  contessa, '  said  the  young  signor.  Giacomo 
blinked  like  an  owl,  and  coughed  as  though  the  devil 
scratched  in  his  throat. 

"'The  contessa!'  he  said.     'She  is  gone!' 

"  The  signor  then  threw  himself  upon  Giacomo  and  shook 
him  to  and  fro  as  though  he  were  a  bag  of  loose  wheat. 

"'Gone!'  and  he  screamed  like  a  madman!  '  Where?  Tell 
me  where,  dolt !  idiot !  driveler !  before  I  twist  your  neck  for 
you!' 

"  Truly,  eccellenza,  I  would  have  gone  to  the  rescue  of  the 
poor  Giacomo,  but  respect  for  your  commands  kept  me  silent. 
'A  thousand  pardons,  signor!'  he  whispered,  out  of  breath 
with  his  shaking.  'I  will  tell  you  instantly — most  instantly. 
She  is  at  the  Convento  dell'  Annunziata — ten  miles  from  here 
— the  saints  know  I  speak  the  truth — she  left  two  days  since. ' 

"  The  Signor  Ferrari  then  flung  away  the  unfortunate  Gia- 
como with  so  much  force  that  he  fell  in  a  heap  on  the  pave- 
ment and  broke  his  lantern  to  pieces.  The  old  man  set  up  a 
most  pitiful  groaning,  but  the  signor  cared  nothing  for  that. 
He  was  mad,  I  think.  'Get  to  bed!'  he  cried,  'and  sleep — 
sleep  till  you  die !  Tell  your  mistress  when  you  see  her  that 
I  came  to  kill  her !  My  curse  upon  this  house  and  all  who 
dwell  in  it!'  And  with  that  he  ran  so  quickly  through  the 
garden  into  the  high-road  that  I  had  some  trouble  to  follow 
him.  There  after  walking  unsteadily  for  a  few  paces,  he  sud- 
denly fell  down,  senseless." 

Vincenzo  paused.     "  Well,"  I  said,  "  what  happened  next?" 


vendetta!  225 

"  Eccellenza,  /  could  not  leave  him  there  without  aid.  I 
drew  my  cloak  well  up  to  my  mouth  and  pulled  my  hat  down 
over  my  eyes  so  that  he  could  not  recognize  me.  Then  I 
took  water  from  the  fountain  close  by  and  dashed  it  on  his 
face.  He  soon  came  to  himself,  and,  taking  me  for  a  stranger, 
thanked  me  for  my  assistance,  saying  that  he  had  a  sudden 
shock.  He  then  drank  greedily  from  the  fountain  and  went 
on  his  way." 

"  You  followed?" 

"  Yes,  eccellenza — at  a  little  distance.  He  next  visited  a 
common  tavern  in  one  of  the  back  streets  of  the  city  and  came 
out  with  two  men.  They  were  well  dressed — they  had  the 
air  of  gentlemen  spoiled  by  bad  fortune.  The  signor  talked 
with  them  for  some  time — he  seemed  much  excited.  I  could 
not  hear  what  they  said  except  at  the  end,  when  these  two 
strangers  consented  to  appear  as  seconds  for  Signor  Ferrari, 
and  they  at  once  left  him,  to  come  straight  to  this  hotel. 
And  they  are  arrived,  for  I  saw  them  through  a  half-opened 
door  as  I  came  in,  talking  with  the  Marquis  D'Avencourt." 

"  Well !"  I  said,  "  and  what  of  Signor  Ferrari  when  he  was 
left  alone  by  his  two  friends?" 

"  There  is  not  much  more  to  tell,  eccellenza.  He  went  up 
the  little  hill  to  his  own  studio,  and  I  noticed  that  he  walked 
like  a  very  old  man  with  his  head  bent.  Once  he  stopped 
and  shook  his  fist  in  the  air  as  though  threatening  some  one. 
He  let  himself  in  at  his  door  with  a  private  key — and  I  saw 
him  no  more.  I  felt  that  he  would  not  come  out  again  for 
some  time.  And  as  I  moved  away  to  return  here,  I  heard  a 
sound  as  of  terrible  weeping." 

"  And  that  is  all,  Vincenzo?" 

"That  is  all,  eccellenza." 

I  was  silent.  There  was  something  in  the  simple  narration 
that  touched  me,  though  I  remained  as  determinately  relent- 
less as  ever.     After  a  few  moments  I  said : 

"  You  have  done  well,  Vincenzo.  You  are  aware  how 
grossly  this  young  man  has  insulted  me — and  that  his  injurious 
treatment  can  only  be  wiped  out  in  one  way.  That  way  is 
already  arranged.     You  can  set  out  those  pistols  you  cleaned." 

Vincenzo  obeyed — but  as  he  lifted  the  heavy  case  of  weapons 
and  set  them  on  the  table,  he  ventured  to  remark,  timidly: 

"  The  eccellenza  knows  it  is  now  Christmas-day?" 

"  I  am  quite  aware  of  the  fact,"  I  said  somewhat  frigidly. 


226  vendetta! 

In  no  wise  daunted  he  went  on,  "  Coming  back  just  now  I 
saw  the  big  Nicolo — the  eccellenza  has  doubtless  seen  him 
often? — he  is  a  vine-grower,  and  they  say  he  is  the  largest 
man  in  Naples — three  months  since  he  neai-ly  killed  his 
brother — ebbene  !  To-night  that  same  big  Nicolo  is  drinking 
Chianti  with  that  same  brother,  and  both  shouted  after  me  as 
I  passed,  'Hold!  Vincenzo  Flamma!  all  is  well  between  us 
because  it  is  the  blessed  Christ's  birthday.'"  Vincenzo 
stopped  and  regarded  me  wistfully. 

"  Well,"  I  said,  calmly,  "  what  has  the  big  Nicolo  or  his 
brother  to  do  with  me?" 

My  valet  hesitated — looked  up — then  down — finally  he  said 
simply,  "  May  the  saints  preserve  the  eccellenza  from  all 
harm!" 

I  smiled  gravely.  "Thank  you,  my  friend!  I  understand 
what  you  mean.  Have  no  fear  for  me.  I  am  now  going  to  lie 
down  and  rest  till  five  o'clock  or  thereabouts — and  I  advise  you 
to  do  the  same.     At  that  time  you  can  bring  me  some  coffee." 

And  I  nodded  kindly  to  him  as  I  left  him  and  entered  my 
sleeping  apartment,  where  I  threw  myself  on  the  bed,  dressed 
as  I  was.  I  had  no  intention  of  sleeping — my  mind  was  too 
deeply  engrossed  by  all  I  had  gone  through.  I  could  enter 
into  Guido's  feelings — had  I  not  suffered  as  he  was  now  suffer- 
ing?— nay !  more  than  he — for  he,  at  any  rate,  would  not  be 
buried  alive !  I  should  take  care  of  that !  He  would  not  h.'  /e 
to  endure  the  agony  of  breaking  loose  from  the  cold  grasp  of 
the  grave  to  come  back  to  life  and  find  his  name  slandered, 
and  his  vacant  place  filled  up  by  a  usurper.  Do  what  I  would, 
I  could  not  torture  him  as  much  as  I  myself  had  been  tor- 
tured. That  was  a  pity — death,  sudden  and  almost  painless, 
seemed  too  good  for  him.  I  held  up  my  hand  in  the  half  light 
and  watched  it  closely  to  see  if  it  trembled  ever  so  slightly. 
No !  it  was  steady  as  a  rock — I  felt  I  was  sure  of  my  aim.  I 
would  not  fire  at  his  heart,  I  thought — but  just  above  it — for 
I  had  to  remember  one  thing — he  must  live  long  enough  to 
recognize  me  before  he  died.  That  was  the  sting  I  reserved 
for  his  last  moments!  The  sick  dreams  that  had  bewildered 
my  brain  when  I  was  taken  ill  at  the  auberge  recurred  to  me. 
I  remembered  the  lithe  figure,  so  like  Guido,  that  had  glided 
in  the  Indian  canoe  toward  me  and  had  plunged  a  dagger  three 
times  in  my  heart !  Had  it  not  been  realized?  Had  not  Guido 
stabbed  me  thrice? — in  his  theft  of  my  wife's  affections — in 


VENDETTA*  227 

his  contempt  for  my  little  dead  child — in  his  slanders  on  my 
name?  Then  why  such  foolish  notions  of  pity — of  forgive- 
ness, that  were  beginning  to  steal  into  my  mind?  It  was  too 
late  now  for  forgiveness — the  very  idea  of  it  only  rose  out  of 
a  silly  sentimentalism  awakened  by  Ferrari's  allusion  to  our 
young  days — days  for  which,  after  all,  he  really  cared  noth- 
ing. Meditating  on  all  these  thiiigs,  I  suppose  I  must  have 
fallen  by  imperceptible  degrees  into  a  doze  which  gradually 
deepened  till  it  became  a  profound  and  refreshing  sleep. 
From  this  I  was  awakened  by  a  knocking  at  the  door.  I  arose 
and  admitted  Vincenzo,  who  entered  bearing  a  tray  of  steam- 
ing coffee. 

"  Is  it  already  so  late?"  I  asked  him. 

"  It  wants  a  quarter  to  five,"  replied  Vincenzo — then  looking 
at  me  in  some  surprise,  he  added,  "  Will  not  the  eccellenza 
change  his  evening-dress?" 

I  nodded  in  the  affirmative — and  while  I  drank  my  coffee 
my  valet  set  out  a  suit  of  rough  tweed,  such  as  I  was  accus- 
tomed to  wear  every  day.  He  then  left  me,  and  I  quickly 
changed  my  attire,  and  while  I  did  so  I  considered  carefully 
the  position  of  affairs.  Neither  the  Marquis  D'Avencourt  nor 
Captain  Freccia  had  ever  known  me  personally  when  I  was 
Fabio  Romani — nor  was  it  at  all  probable  that  the  two  tavern 
companions  of  Ferrari  had  ever  seen  me.  A  surgeon  would 
be  on  the  field — most  probably  a  stranger.  Thinking  over 
these  points,  I  resolved  on  a  bold  stroke — it  was  this — that 
when  I  turned  to  face  Ferrari  in  the  combat,  I  would  do  so 
with  uncovered  eyes — I  would  abjure  my  spectacles  altogether 
for  the  occasion.  Vaguely  I  wondered  what  the  effect  would 
be  upon  him.  I  was  very  much  changed  even  without  these 
disguising  glasses — my  white  beard  and  hair  had  seemingly 
altered  my  aspect — yet  I  knew  there  was  something  familiar 
in  the  expression  of  my  eyes  that  could  not  fail  to  startle  one 
who  had  known  me  well.  My  seconds  would  consider  it  very 
natural  that  I  should  remove  the  smoke-colored  spectacles  in 
order  to  see  my  aim  unencumbered — the  only  person  likely  to 
be  disconcerted  by  my  action  was  Ferrari  himself.  The  more 
I  thought  of  it  the  more  determined  I  was  to  do  it.  I  had 
scarcely  finished  dressing  when  Vincenzo  entered  with  my 
overcoat,  and  informed  me  that  the  marquis  waited  for  me, 
and  that  a  close  carriage  was  in  attendance  at  the  private 
door  of  the  hotel. 


228  vendetta! 

"Permit  me  to  accompany  you,  eccellenza!"  pleaded  the 
faithful  fellow,  with  anxiety  in  the  tone  of  his  voice. 

"  Come  then,  amico ! "  I  said,  cheerily.  "  If  the  marquis 
makes  no  objection  I  shall  not.  But  you  must  promise  not  to 
interrupt  any  of  the  proceedings  by  so  much  as  an  exclama- 
tion." 

He  promised  readily,  and  when  I  joined  the  marquis  he  fol- 
lowed, carrying  my  case  of  pistols. 

"  He  can  be  trusted,  I  suppose?"  asked  D'Avencourt,  glanc- 
ing keenly  at  him  while  shaking  hands  cordially  with  me. 

"  To  the  death!"  I  replied,  laughingly.  "  He  will  break  his 
heart  if  he  is  not  allowed  to  bind  up  my  wounds !" 

"I  see  you  are  in  good  spirits,  conte,"  remarked  Captain 
Freccia,  as  we  took  our  seats  in  the  carriage.  "  It  is  always  the 
way  with  the  man  who  is  in  the  right.  Ferrari,  I  fear,  is  not 
quite  so  comfortable." 

And  he  proffered  me  a  cigar,  which  I  accepted.  Just  as  we 
were  about  to  start,  the  fat  landlord  of  the  hotel  rushed  toward 
us,  and  laying  hold  of  the  carriage  door — "  Eccellenza,"  he 
observed  in  a  confidential  whisper,  "  of  course  this  is  only  a 
matter  of  coffee  and  glorias  ?  They  will  be  ready  for  you 
all  on  your  return.  I  know — I  understand !"  And  he  smiled 
and  nodded  a  great  many  times,  and  laid  his  finger  knowingly 
on  the  side  of  his  nose.  We  laughed  heartily,  assuring  him 
that  his  perspicuity  was  wonderful,  and  he  stood  on  the  broad 
steps  in  high  good  humor,  watching  us  as  our  vehicle  rumbled 
heavily  away. 

"  Evidently,"  I  remarked,  "  he  does  not  consider  a  duel  as  a 
serious  affair." 

"  Not  he !"  replied  Freccia.  "  He  has  known  of  too  many 
sham  fights  to  be  able  to  understand  a  real  one.  D'Aven- 
court knows  something  about  that,  too,  though  he  always  kills 
his  man.  But  very  often  it  is  sufficient  to  scratch  one  another 
with  the  sword-point  so  as  to  draw  a  quarter  of  a  drop  of 
blood,  and  honor  is  satisfied !  Then  the  coffee  and  glorias  are 
brought,  as  suggested  by  our  friend  the  landlord." 

"It  is  a  ridiculous  age,"  said  the  marquis,  taking  his  cigar 
from  his  mouth,  and  complacently  surveying  his  small,  supple 
white  hand,  "  thoroughly  ridiculous,  but  I  determined  it  should 
never  make  a  fool  of  me.  You  see,  my  dear  conte,  nowadays 
a  duel  is  very  frequently  decided  with  swords  rather  than 
pistols,  and  why?    Because  cowards  fancy  it  is  much  more 


vendetta!  229 

difficult  to  kill  with  the  sword.  But  not  at  all.  Long  ago  I 
made  up  my  mind  that  no  man  should  continue  to  live  who 
dared  to  insult  me.  I  therefore  studied  sword-play  as  an  art. 
And  I  assure  you  it  is  a  simple  matter  to  kill  with  the  sword — 
remarkably  simple.  My  opponents  are  astonished  at  the  ease 
with  which  I  dispatch  them !" 

Freccia  laughed.  "  De  Hamal  is  a  pupil  of  yours,  marquis, 
is  he  not?" 

"  I  regret  to  say  yes !  He  is  marvelously  clumsy.  I  have 
often  earnestly  requested  him  to  eat  his  sword  rather  than 
handle  it  so  boorishly.  Yet  he  kills  his  men,  too,  but  in  a 
butcher-like  manner — totally  without  grace  or  refinement.  I 
sould  say  he  was  about  on  a  par  with  our  two  associates,  Fer- 
rari's seconds." 

I  roused  myself  from  a  reverie  into  which  I  had  fallen. 

"  What  men  are  they?"  I  inquired. 

"  One  calls  himself  the  Capitano  Ciabatti,  the  other  Cava- 
liere  Dursi,  at  your  service,"  answered  Freccia,  indifferently. 
"  Good  swearers  both  and  hard  drinkers — filled  with  stock 
phrases,  such  as  'our  distinguished  dear  friend,  Ferrari,' 
'wrongs  which  can  only  be  wiped  out  by  blood' — all  bombast 
and  braggadocio !  These  fellows  would  as  soon  be  on  one  side 
as  the  other." 

He  resumed  his  smoking,  and  we  all  three  lapsed  into 
silence.  The  drive  seemed  very  long,  though  in  reality  the 
distance  was  not  great.  At  last  we  passed  the  Casa  Ghirlande, 
a  superb  chateau  belonging  to  a  distinguished  nobleman  who 
in  former  days  had  been  a  friendly  neighbor  to  me,  and  then 
our  vehicle  jolted  down  a  gentle  declivity  which  sloped  into  a 
small  valley,  where  there  was  a  good-sized  piece  of  smooth 
flat  greensward.  From  this  spot  could  be  faintly  discerned 
the  castellated  turrets  of  my  own  house,  the  Villa  Romani. 
Here  we  came  to  a  standstill.  Vincenzo  jumped  briskly 
down  from  his  seat  beside  the  coachman,  and  assisted  us  to 
alight.  The  carriage  then  drove  off  to  a  retired  corner  behind 
some  trees.  We  surveyed  the  ground,  and  saw  that  as  yet 
only  one  person  beside  ourselves  had  arrived.  This  was  the 
surgeon,  a  dapper  good-humored  little  German  who  spoke  bad 
French  and  worse  Italian,  and  who  shook  hands  cordially  with 
us  all.  On  learning  who  I  was  he  bowed  low  and  smiled  very 
amiably.  "  The  best  wish  I  can  offer  to  you,  signer,"  he  said, 
"  is  that  you  may  have  no  occasion  for  my  services.     You  have 


230  vendetta! 

reposed  yourself?  That  is  well — sleep  steadies  the  nerves. 
Ach!  you  shiver!    True  it  is,  the  morning  is  cold." 

I  did  indeed  experience  a  passing  shudder,  but  not  because 
the  air  was  chilly.  It  was  because  I  felt  certain — so  terribly 
certain,  of  killing  the  man  I  had  once  loved  well.  Almost  I 
wished  I  could  also  feel  that  there  was  the  slightest  possibility 
of  his  killing  me ;  but  no ! — all  my  instincts  told  me  there  was 
no  chance  of  this.  I  had  a  sort  of  sick  pain  at  my  heart,  and 
as  I  thought  of  her,  the  jewel-eyed  snake  who  had  wrought  all 
the  evil,  my  wrath  against  her  increased  tenfold.  I  wondered 
scornfully  what  she  was  doing  away  in  the  quiet  convent 
where  the  sacred  Host,  unveiled,  glittered  on  the  altar  like  a 
star  of  the  morning.  No  doubt  she  slept;  it  was  yet  too  early 
for  her  to  practice  her  sham  sanctity.  She  slept,  in  all  prob- 
ability most  peacefully,  while  her  husband  and  her  lover 
called  upon  death  to  come  and  decide  between  them.  The 
slow  clear  strokes  of  a  bell  chiming  from  the  city  tolled  six, 
and  as  its  last  echo  trembled  mournfully  on  the  wind  there 
was  a  slight  stir  among  my  companions.  I  looked  and  saw 
Ferrari  approaching  with  his  two  associates.  He  walked 
slowly,  and  was  muffled  in  a  thick  cloak ;  his  hat  was  pulled 
over  his  brows,  and  I  could  not  see  the  expression  of  his  face, 
as  he  did  not  turn  his  head  once  in  my  direction,  but  stood 
apart  leaning  against  the  trunk  of  a  leafless  tree.  The  seconds 
on  both  sides  now  commenced  measuring  the  ground. 

"  We  are  agreed  as  to  the  distance,  gentlemen,"  said  the 
marquis.     "  Twenty  paces,  I  think?" 

"  Twenty  paces,"  stiffly  returned  one  of  Ferrari's  friends — a 
battered-looking  middle-aged  ?'<??<!/ with  ferocious  mustachios, 
whom  I  presumed  was  Captain  Ciabatti. 

They  went  on  measuring  carefully  and  in  silence.  During 
the  pause  I  turned  my  back  on  the  whole  party,  slipped  oflE 
my  spectacles  and  put  them  in  my  pocket.  Then  I  lowered 
the  brim  of  my  hat  slightly  so  that  the  change  might  not  be 
observed  too  suddenly — and  resuming  my  first  position,  I 
waited.  It  was  daylight,  though  not  full  morning — the  sun 
had  not  yet  risen,  but  there  was  an  opaline  luster  in  the  sky, 
and  one  pale  pink  streak  in  the  east  like  the  floating  pennon 
from  the  lance  of  a  hero,  which  heralded  his  approach.  There 
was  a  gentle  twittering  of  awakening  birds — the  grass  sparkled 
with  a  million  tiny  drops  of  frosty  dew.  A  curious  calmness 
possessed  me.     I  felt  for  the  time  as  though  I  were  a  median- 


vendetta!  231 

leal  automaton  moved  by  some  other  will  than  my  own.     I 
had  no  passion  left. 

The  weapons  were  now  loaded — and  the  marquis,  looking 
about  him  with  a  cheerful  business-like  air,  remarked: 

"  I  think  we  may  now  place  our  men?" 

This  suggestion  agreed  to,  Ferrari  left  his  place  near  the 
tree  against  which  he  had  in  part  reclined  as  though  fatigued, 
and  advanced  to  the  spot  his  seconds  pointed  out  to  him.  He 
threw  off  his  hat  and  overcoat,  thereby  showing  that  he  was 
still  in  his  evening-dress.  His  face  was  haggard  and  of  a 
sickly  paleness — his  eyes  had  dark  rings  of  pain  round  them 
and  were  full  of  a  keen  and  bitter  anguish.  He  eagerly 
grasped  the  pistol  they  handed  to  him,  and  examined  it  closely 
with  vengeful  interest.  I  meanwhile  also  threw  oflE  my  hat 
and  coat — the  marquis  glanced  at  me  with  careless  approval. 

"  You  look  a  much  younger  man  without  your  spectacles, 
conte,"  he  remarked  as  he  handed  me  my  weapon.  I  smiled 
indifferently,  and  took  up  my  position  at  the  distance  indicated 
exactly  opposite  Ferrari.  He  was  still  occupied  in  the  ex- 
amination of  his  pistol,  and  did  not  at  once  look  up. 

"Are  we  ready,  gentlemen?"  demanded  Freccia,  with  cour- 
teous coldness. 

"  Quite  ready,"  was  the  response.  The  Marquis  D'Aven- 
court  took  out  his  handkerchief.  Then  Ferrari  raised  his  head 
and  faced  me  fully  for  the  first  time.  Great  Heaven!  shall  I 
ever  forget  the  awful  change  that  came  over  his  pallid  coun- 
tenance— the  confused  mad  look  of  his  eyes — the  startled  hor- 
ror of  his  expression!  His  lips  moved  as  though  he  were 
about  to  utter  an  exclamation — he  staggered. 

"One!"  cried  D'Avencourt. 

We  raised  our  weapons. 

"Two!" 

The  scared  and  bewildered  expression  of  Ferrari's  face 
deepened  visibly  as  he  eyed  me  steadily  in  taking  aim,  I 
smiled  proudly— I  gave  him  back  glance  for  glance — I  saw 
him  waver — his  hand  shook. 

"Three!"  and  the  white  handkerchief  fluttered  to  the 
ground.  Instantly,  and  together,  we  fired.  Ferrari's  bullet 
whizzed  past  me,  merely  tearing  my  coat  and  grazing  my 
shoulder.  The  smoke  cleared— Ferrari  still  stood  erect, 
opposite  to  me,  staring  straight  forward  with  the  same  frantic 
far-off  look— the  pistol  had  dropped  from  his  hand.     Suddenly 


2  32  vendetta! 

he  threw  up  his  arms — shuddered — and  with  a  smothered 
groan  fell,  face  forward,  prone  on  the  sward.  The  surgeon 
hurried  to  his  side  and  turned  him  so  that  he  lay  on  his  back. 
He  was  unconscious — though  his  dark  eyes  were  wide  open, 
and  turned  blindly  upward  to  the  sky.  The  front  of  his  shirt 
was  already  soaked  with  blood.     We  all  gathered  round  him. 

"  A  good  shot?"  inquired  the  marquis,  with  the  indifference 
of  a  practiced  duelist. 

"  Ach !  a  good  shot  indeed !"  replied  the  little  German  doc- 
tor, shaking  his  head  as  he  rose  from  his  examination  of  the 
wound.  "Excellent!  He  will  be  dead  in  ten  minutes.  The 
bullet  has  passed  through  the  lungs  close  to  the  heart.  Honor 
is  satisfied  certainly." 

At  that  moment  a  deep,  anguished  sigh  parted  the  lips  of 
the  dying  man.  Sense  and  speculation  returned  to  those 
glaring  eyes  so  awfully  upturned.  He  looked  upon  us  all 
doubtfully  one  after  the  other — till  finally  his  gaze  rested 
upon  me.  Then  he  grew  strangely  excited — his  lips  moved — 
he  eagerly  tried  to  speak.  The  doctor,  watchful  of  his  move- 
ments, poured  brandy  between  his  teeth.  The  cordial  gave 
him  momentary  strength — he  raised  himself  by  a  supreme 
effort. 

"Let  me  speak,"  he  gasped  faintly,  "to  him!"  And  he 
pointed  to  me — then  he  continued  to  mutter  like  a  man  in  a 
dream — "  to  him — alone — alone ! — to  him  alone !" 

The  others,  slightly  awed  by  his  manner,  drew  aside  out  of 
ear-shot,  and  I  advanced  and  knelt  beside  him,  stooping  my 
face  between  his  and  the  morning  sky.  His  wild  eyes  met 
mine  with  a  piteous  beseeching  terror. 

"  In  God's  name,"  he  whispered,  thickly,    "  who  are  you  1" 

"  You  know  me,  Guido !"  I  answered,  steadily.  "  I  am 
Fabio  Romani,  whom  you  once  called  friend!  I  am  he  whose 
wife  you  stole! — whose  name  you  slandered! — whose  honor 
you  despised !  Ah !  look  at  me  well !  your  own  heart  tells  you 
who  I  am !" 

He  uttered  a  low  moan  and  raised  his  hand  with  a  feeble 
gesture. 

"  Fabio?  Fabio?"  he  gasped.  "  He  died — I  saw  him  in  his 
coffin — " 

I  leaned  more  closely  over  him.  "  I  was  buried  alive,"  I  said 
with  thrilling  distinctness.  "  Understand  me,  Guido — buried 
alive!    I  escaped — no  matter  how.     I  came  home — to  learn 


vendetta!  233 

your  treachery   and    my    own    dishonor!     Shall    I    tell   you 

more?" 

A  terrible  shudder  shook  his  frame — his  head  moved  rest- 
lessly to  and  fro,  the  sweat  stood  in  large  drops  upon  his  fore- 
head. With  my  own  handkerchief  I  wiped  his  lips  and  brow 
tenderly — my  nerves  were  strung  up  to  an  almost  brittle 
tension — I  smiled  as  a  woman  smiles  when  on  the  verge  of 
hysterical  weeping. 

"  You  know  the  avenue,"  I  said,  "  the  dear  old  avenue,  where 
the  nightingales  sing?  I  saw  you  there,  Guido — with  her! — 
on  the  very  night  of  my  return  from  death — she  was  in  your 
arms — you  kissed  her — you  spoke  of  me — you  toyed  with  the 
necklace  on  her  white  breast!" 

He  writhed  under  my  gaze  with  a  strong  convulsive 
movement. 

"  Tell  me— quick!"  he  gasped.     "  Does— j//(?— know  you?" 

"  Not  yet!"  I  answered,  slowly.  "  But  soon  she  will— when 
I  have  married  her !" 

A  look  of  bitter  anguish  filled  his  straining  eyes.  "  Oh, 
God,  God!"  he  exclaimed  with  a  groan  like  that  of  a  wild 
beast  in  pain.  "  This  is  horrible,  too  horrible !  Spare  me — 
spare — "  A  rush  of  blood  choked  his  utterance.  His  breath- 
ing grew  fainter  and  fainter;  the  livid  hue  of  approaching 
dissolution  spread  itself  gradually  over  his  countenance. 
Staring  wildly  at  me,  he  groped  with  his  hands  as  though  he 
searched  for  some  lost  thing.  I  took  one  of  those  feebly  wan- 
dering hands  within  my  own,  and  held  it  closely  clasped. 

"You  know  the  rest,"  I  said,  gently;  "you  understand  my 
vengeance!  But  it  is  all  over,  Guido — all  over,  now!  She 
has  played  us  both  false.     May  God  forgive  you  as  I  do !" 

He  smiled — a  soft  look  brightened  his  fast-glazing  eyes — the 
old  boyish  look  that  had  won  my  love  in  former  days. 

"  All  over!"  he  repeated  in  a  sort  of  plaintive  babble.  "  All 
over  now!  God — Fabio — forgive! — "  A  terrible  convulsion 
wrenched  and  contorted  his  limbs  and  features,  his  throat  rat- 
tled, and  stretching  himself  out  with  a  long  shivering  sigh — 
he  died!  The  first  beams  of  the  rising  sun,  piercing  through 
the  dark,  moss-covered  branches  of  the  pine-trees,  fell  on  his 
clustering  hair,  and  lent  a  mocking  brilliancy  to  his  wide-open 
sightless  eyes :  there  was  a  smile  on  the  closed  lips !  A  burn- 
ing, suffocating  sensation  rose  in  my  throat,  as  of  rebellious 
tears  trying  to  force  a  passage.     I  still  held  the  hand  of  my 


234  vendetta! 

friend  and  enemy — it  had  grown  cold  in  my  clasp.  Upon  it 
sparkled  my  family  diamond — the  ring  she  had  given  him.  I 
drew  the  jewel  off;  then  I  kissed  that  poor  passive  hand  as  I 
laid  it  gently  down — kissed  it  tenderly,  reverently.  Hearing 
footsteps  approaching,  I  rose  from  my  kneeling  posture  and 
stood  erect  with  folded  arms,  looking  fearlessly  down  on  the 
stiffening  clay  before  me.  The  rest  of  the  party  came  up;  no 
one  spoke  for  a  minute ;  all  surveyed  the  dead  body  in  silence. 
At  last  Captain  Freccia  said,  softly,  in  half -inquiring  accents : 

"  He  is  gone,  I  suppose?" 

I  bowed.     I  could  not  trust  myself  to  speak. 

"  He  made  you  his  apology?"  asked  the  marquis. 

I  bowed  again.  There  was  another  pause  of  heavy  silence. 
The  rigid  smiling  face  of  the  corpse  seemed  to  mock  all 
speech.  The  doctor  stooped  and  skillfully  closed  those  glazed 
appealing  eyes — and  then  it  seemed  to  me  as  though  Guido 
merely  slept  and  that  a  touch  would  waken  him.  The  Mar- 
quis D'Avencourt  took  me  by  the  arm  and  whispered,  "  Get 
back  to  the  city,  amico,  and  take  some  wine — you  look  posi- 
tively ill !  Your  evident  regret  does  you  credit,  considering 
the  circumstances — but  what  would  you? — it  was  a  fair  fight. 
Consider  the  provocation  you  had!  I  should  advise  you  to 
leave  Naples  for  a  couple  of  weeks — by  that  time  the  affair 
will  be  forgotten.  I  know  how  these  things  are  managed — 
leave  it  all  to  me." 

I  thanked  him  and  shook  hands  cordially  and  turned  to  de- 
part. Vincenzo  was  in  waiting  with  the  carriage.  Once  I 
looked  back,  as  with  slow  steps  I  left  the  field ;  a  golden  radi- 
ance illumined  the  sky  just  above  the  stark  figure  stretched  so 
straightly  on  the  sward ;  while  almost  from  the  very  side  of 
that  pulseless  heart  a  little  bird  rose  from  its  nest  among  the 
grasses  and  soared  into  the  heavens,  singing  rapturously  as  it 
flew  into  the  warmth  and  glory  of  the  living,  breathing  day. 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

Entering  the  fiacre,  I  drove  in  it  a  very  little  way  toward 
the  city.  I  bade  the  driver  stop  at  the  corner  of  the  winding 
road  that  led  to  the  Villa  Romani,  and  there  I  alighted.  I 
ordered  Vincenzo  to  go  on  to  the  hotel  and  send  from  thence 


vendetta!  235 

my  own  carriage  and  horses  up  to  the  villa  gates,  where  I 
would  wait  for  it.  I  also  bade  him  pack  my  portmanteau  in 
readiness  for  my  departure  that  evening,  as  I  proposed  going 
to  Avellino,  among  the  mountains,  for  a  few  days.  He  heard 
my  commands  in  silence  and  evident  embarrassment.  Finally 
he  said: 

"  Do  I  also  travel  with  the  eccellenza?" 

"  Why,  no!"  I  answered,  with  a  forced  sad  smile.  "  Do  you 
not  see,  amico,  that  I  am  heavy-hearted,  and  melancholy  men 
are  best  left  to  themselves.  Besides — remember  the  carnival 
— I  told  you  you  were  free  to  indulge  in  its  merriment,  and 
shall  I  not  deprive  you  of  your  pleasure?  No,  Vincenzo;  stay 
and  enjoy  yourself,  and  take  no  concern  for  me." 

Vincenzo  saluted  me  with  his  usual  respectful  bow,  but  his 
features  wore  an  expression  of  obstinacy. 

"  The  eccellenza  must  pardon  me,"  he  said,  "  but  I  have  just 
looked  at  death,  and  my  taste  is  spoiled  for  carnival.  Again 
— the  eccellenza  is  35ad — it  is  necessary  that  I  should  accom- 
pany him  to  Avellino." 

I  saw  that  his  mind  was  made  up,  and  I  was  in  no  humor 
for  argument. 

"  As  you  will,"  I  answered,  wearily,  "  only  believe  me,  you 
make  a  foolish  decision.  But  do  what  you  like ;  only  arrange 
all  so  that  we  leave  to-night.  And  now  get  back  quickly — 
give  no  explanations  at  the  hotel  of  what  has  occurred,  and 
lose  no  time  in  sending  on  my  carriage.  I  will  wait  alone  at 
the  Villa  Romani  till  it  comes." 

The  vehicle  rumbled  off,  bearing  Vincenzo  seated  on  the 
box  beside  the  driver.  I  watched  it  disappear,  and  then  turned 
into  the  road  that  led  me  to  my  own  dishonored  home.  The 
place  looked  silent  and  deserted — not  a  soul  was  stirring.  The 
silken  blinds  of  the  reception-rooms  were  all  closely  drawn, 
showing  that  the  mistress  of  the  house  was  absent;  it  was  as 
if  some  one  lay  dead  within.  A  vague  wonderment  arose  in 
my  mind.  Who  was  dead?  Surely  it  must  be  I — I,  the  master 
of  the  household,  who  lay  stiff  and  cold  in  one  of  those  cur- 
tained rooms!  This  terrible  white-haired  man  who  roamed 
feverishly  i:p  and  down  outside  the  walls  was  not  me — it  was 
some  angry  demon  risen  from  the  grave  to  wreak  punishment 
on  the  g^tiilty.  /  was  dead — /  could  never  have  killed  the 
man  who  had  once  been  my  friend.  And  he  also  was  dead — 
the  same  murderess  had  slain  us  both — and  ^(^^  lived !     Ha! 


236  vendetta! 

that  was  wrong — she  must  now  die — but  in  such  torture  that 
her  very  soul  shall  shrink  and  shrivel  under  it  into  a  devil's 
flame  for  the  furnace  of  hell! 

With  my  brain  full  of  hot  whirling  thoughts  like  these  I 
looked  through  the  carved  heraldic  work  of  the  villa  gates. 
Here  had  Guido  stood,  poor  wretch,  last  night,  shaking  these 
twisted  wreaths  of  iron  in  impotent  fury.  There  on  the 
mosaic  pavement  he  had  flung  the  trembling  old  servant  who 
had  told  him  of  the  absence  of  his  traitress.  On  this  very 
spot  he  had  launched  his  curse,  which,  though  he  knew  it 
not,  was  the  curse  of  a  dying  man.  I  was  glad  he  had  uttered 
it — such  maledictions  cling!  There  was  nothing  but  com- 
passion for  him  in  my  heart  now  that  he  was  dead.  He  had 
been  duped  and  wronged  even  as  I;  and  I  felt  that  his  spirit, 
released  from  its  grosser  clay,  would  work  with  mine  and  aid 
in  her  punishment. 

I  paced  round  the  silent  house  till  I  came  to  the  private 
wicket  that  led  into  the  avenue;  I  opened  it  and  entered  the 
familiar  path.  I  had  not  been  there  since  the  fatal  night  on 
which  I  had  learned  my  own  betrayal.  How  intensely  still 
were  those  solemn  pines — how  gaunt  and  dark  and  grim !  Not 
a  branch  quivered — not  a  leaf  stirred.  A  cold  dew  that  was 
scarcely  a  frost  glittered  on  the  moss  at  my  feet.  No  bird's 
voice  broke  the  impressiv^e  hush  of  the  woodland's  morning 
dream.  No  bright-hued  flower  unbuttoned  its  fairy  cloak  to 
the  breeze,  yet  there  was  a  subtle  perfume  everywhere — the 
fragrance  of  unseen  violets  whose  purple  eyes  were  still  closed 
in  slumber. 

I  gazed  on  the  scene  as  a  man  may  behold  in  a  vision  the 
spot  where  he  once  was  happy.  I  walked  a  few  paces,  then 
paused  with  a  strange  beating  at  my  heart.  A  shadow  fell 
across  my  path — it  flitted  before  me,  it  stopped — it  lay  still. 
I  saw  it  resolve  itself  into  the  figure  of  a  man  stretched  out  in 
rigid  silence,  with  the  light  beating  full  on  its  smiling,  dead 
face,  and  also  on  a  deep  wound  just  above  his  heart,  from 
which  the  blood  oozed  redly,  staining  the  grass  on  which  he 
lay.  Mastering  the  sick  horror  which  seized  me  at  this  sight, 
I  sprung  forward — the  shadow  vanished  instantly — it  was  a 
mere  optical  delusion,  the  result  of  my  overwrought  and  ex- 
cited condition.  I  shuddered  involuntarily  at  the  image  my 
own  heated  fancy  had  conjured  up;  should  I  always  see  Guido 
thus,  I  thought,  even  in  my  dreams? 


VENDETTA.  23/ 

Suddenly  a  ringing,  swaying  rush  of  sound  burst  joyously 
on  the  silence — the  shnnbering  trees  awoke,  their  leaves 
moved,  their  dark  branches  quivered,  and  the  grasses  lifted 
up  their  green  lilliputian  sword-blades.  Bells! — and  such 
bells! — tongues  of  melody  that  stormed  the  air  with  sweetest 
eloquence — round,  rainbow  bubbles  of  mtisic  that  burst  upon 
the  wind,  and  dispersed  in  delicate  broken  echoes. 

"  Peace  on  earth,  good  will  to  men !  Peace — on — earth — 
good — 'Will — to — men  !"  they  seemed  to  say  over  and  over 
again,  till  my  ears  ached  with  the  repetition.  Peace !  What 
had  I  to  do  with  peace  or  good-will?  The  Christ  Mass  could 
teach  me  nothing.  I  was  as  one  apart  from  human  life — an  alien 
from  its  customs  and  affections — for  me  no  love,  no  brother- 
hood remained.  The  swinging  song  of  the  chimes  jarred  my 
nerves.  Why,  I  thought,  should  the  wild  erring  world,  with 
all  its  wicked  men  and  women,  presume  to  rejoice  at  the  birth 
of  the  Saviour? — they,  who  were  not  worthy  to  be  saved!  I 
turned  swiftly  away ;  I  strode  fiercely  past  the  kingly  pines 
that,  now  thoroughly  awakened,  seemed  to  note  me  with  a 
stern  disdain  as  though  they  said  among  themselves:  "  What 
manner  of  small  creature  is  this  that  torments  himself  with 
passions  unknown  to  us  in  our  calm  converse  with  the  stars?" 

I  was  glad  when  I  stood  again  on  the  high-road,  and  infin- 
itely relieved  when  I  heard  the  rapid  trot  of  horses  and  rum- 
bling of  wheels,  and  saw  my  closed  brougham,  drawn  by  its 
prancing  black  Arabians,  approaching.  I  walked  to  meet  it; 
the  coachman  seeing  me  drew  up  instantly.  I  bade  him  take 
me  to  the  Convento  dell'  Annunziata,  and  entering  the  car- 
riage, I  was  driven  rapidly  away. 

[  The  convent  was  situated,  I  knew,  somewhere  between 
Naples  and  Sorrento.  I  guessed  it  to  be  near  Castellamare, 
but  it  was  fully  three  miles  beyond  that,  and  was  a  somewhat 
long  drive  of  more  than  two  hours.  It  lay  a  good  distance  out 
of  the  direct  route,  and  was  only  attained  by  a  by-road,  which 
from  its  rough  and  broken  condition  was  evidently  not  much 
frequented.  The  building  stood  apart  from  all  other  habita- 
tions in  a  large  open  piece  of  grournd,  fenced  in  by  a  high 
stone  wall  spiked  at  the  top.  Roses  climbed  thickly  among 
the  spikes,  and  almost  hid  their  sharp  points  from  view,  and 
from  a  perfect  nest  of  green  foliage,  the  slender  spire  of  the 
convent  chapel  rose  into  the  sky  like  a  white  finger  pointing 
to  heaven.     My  coachman  drew  up  before  the  heavily  barred 


238  vendetta! 

gates.  I  alighted,  and  bade  him  take  the  carriage  to  the 
principal  hostelry  at  Castellamare,  and  wait  for  me  there.  As 
soon  as  he  had  driven  off,  I  rang  the  convent  bell.  A  little 
wicket  fixed  in  the  gate  opened  immediately,  and  the  wrinkled 
visage  of  a  very  old  and  ugly  nun  looked  out.  She  demanded 
in  low  tones  what  I  sought.  I  handed  her  my  card,  and  stated 
my  desire  to  see  the  Countess  Romani,  if  agreeable  to 
the  superioress.  While  I  spoke  she  looked  at  me  curiously — 
my  spectacles,  I  suppose,  excited  her  wonder — for  I  had  re- 
placed these  disguising  glasses  immediately  on  leaving  the 
scene  of  the  duel — I  needed  them  yet  a  little  while  longer. 
After  peering  at  me  a  minute  or  two  with  her  bleared  and  aged 
eyes,  she  shut  the  wicket  in  my  face  with  a  smart  click  and 
disappeared.  While  I  awaited  her  return  I  heard  the  sound 
of  children's  laughter  and  light  footsteps  running  trippingly 
on  the  stone  passage  within. 

"  Fi  done,  Rosie!"  said  the  girl's  voice  in  French;  "la 
bonne  Mere  Marguerite  sera  tres  tres  fachee  avec  toi." 

"  Tais-toi,  petite  sainte !"  cried  another  voice  more  piercing 
and  silvery  in  tone.  "Je  veux  voir  qui  est  la!  C'est  un 
homme  je  sais  bien — parceque  la  vieille  Mere  Laura  a  rougi !" 
and  both  young  voices  broke  into  a  chorus  of  renewed 
laughter. 

Then  came  the  shuffling  noise  of  the  old  nun's  footsteps  re- 
turning; she  evidently  caught  the  two  truants,  whoever  they 
were,  for  I  heard  her  expostulating,  scolding  and  apostrophiz- 
ing the  saints  all  in  a  breath,  as  she  bade  them  go  inside  the 
house  and  ask  the  good  little  Jesus  to  forgive  their  naughti- 
ness. A  silence  ensued,  then  the  bolts  and  bars  of  the  huge 
gate  were  undone  slowly — it  opened,  and  I  was  admitted.  I 
raised  my  hat  as  I  entered,  and  walked  bare-headed  through  a 
long,  cold  corridor,  guided  by  the  venerable  nun,  who  looked 
at  me  no  more,  but  told  her  beads  as  she  walked,  and  never 
spoke  till  she  had  led  me  into  the  building,  through  a  lofty 
hall  glorious  with  sacred  paintings  and  statues,  and  from 
thence  into  a  large,  elegantly  furnished  room,  whose  windows 
commanded  a  fine  view  of  the  grounds.  Here  she  motioned 
me  to  take  a  seat,  and  without  lifting  her  eyelids,  said: 

"Mother  Marguerite  will  wait  upon  you  instantly,  signer." 

I  bowed,  and  she  glided  from  the  room  so  noiselessly  that 
I  did  not  even  hear  the  door  close  behind  her.  Left  alone  in 
what  I  rightly  concluded  was  the  reception-room  for  visitors, 


vendetta!  239 

I  looked  about  me  with  some  faint  interest  and  curiosity.  I 
had  never  before  seen  the  interior  of  what  is  known  as  an 
educational  convent.  There  were  many  photographs  on  the 
walls  and  mantel-piece— portraits  of  girls,  some  plain  of  face 
and  form,  others  beautiful — no  doubt  they  had  all  been  sent  to 
the  nuns  as  souvenirs  of  former  pupils.  Rising  from  my  chair 
I  examined  a  few  of  them  carelessly,  and  was  about  to  inspect 
a  fine  copy  of  Murillo's  Virgin,  when  my  attention  was  caught 
by  an  upright  velvet  frame  surmounted  with  my  own  crest 
and  coronet.  In  it  was  the  portrait  of  my  wife,  taken  in  her 
bridal  dress,  as  she  looked  when  she  married  me.  I  took  it  to 
the  light,  and  stared  at  the  features  dubiously.  This  was  she 
— this  slim,  fairy-like  creature  clad  in  gossamer  white,  with 
the  marriage  veil  thrown  back  from  her  clustering  hair  and 
child-like  face— this  was  the  thitig  for  which  two  men's  lives 
had  been  sacrificed!  With  a  movement  of  disgust  I  replaced 
the  frame  in  its  former  position;  I  had  scarcely  done  so  when 
the  door  opened  quietly  and  a  tall  woman,  clad  in  trailing 
robes  of  pale  blue  with  a  nun's  band  and  veil  of  fine  white 
cashmere,  stood  before  me.  I  saluted  her  with  a  deep  rever- 
ence; she  responded  by  the  slightest  possible  bend  of  her 
head.  Her  outward  manner  was  so  very  still  and  composed 
that  when  she  spoke  her  colorless  lips  scarcely  moved,  her 
very  breathing  never  stirred  the  silver  crucifix  that  lay  like  a 
glittering  sign-manual  on  her  quiet  breast.  Her  voice,  though 
low,  was  singularly  clear  and  penetrating. 

"  I  address  the  Count  Oliva?"  she  inquired. 

I  bowed  in  the  affirmative.     She  looked  at  me  keenly :   she 
had  dark,  brilliant  eyes,  in  which  the  smoldering  fires  of  many 
I  a  conquered  passion  still  gleamed. 

"  You  would  see  the  Countess  Romani,  who  is  in  retreat 
here?" 

"  If  not  inconvenient  or  out  of  rule — "  I  began. 

The  shadow  of  a  smile  flitted  across  the  nun's  pale,  intellect- 
ual face ;  it  was  gone  almost  as  soon  as  it  appeared. 

"  Not  at  all,"  she  replied,  in  the  same  even  monotone.  "  The 
Countess  Nina  is,  by  her  own  desire,  following  a  strict 
regime,  but  to-day  being  a  universal  feast-day  all  rules  are 
somewhat  relaxed.  The  reverend  mother  desires  me  to  inform 
you  that  it  is  now  the  hour  for  mass — she  has  herself  already 
entered  the  chapel.  If  you  will  share  in  our  devotions,  the 
countess  shall  afterward  be  informed  of  your  presence  here." 


240  vendetta! 

I  could  do  no  less  than  accede  to  this  proposition,  though  in 
truth  it  was  unwelcome  to  me.  I  was  in  no  humor  for  either 
prayers  or  praise ;  I  thought  moodily  how  startled  even  this 
impassive  nun  might  have  been,  could  she  have  known  what 
manner  of  man  it  was  that  she  thus  invited  to  kneel  in  the 
sanctuary.  However,  I  said  no  word  of  objection,  and  she 
bade  me  follow  her.     As  we  left  the  room  I  asked : 

"  Is  the  countess  well?" 

"She  seems  so,"  returned  Mere  Marguerite;  "she  follows 
her  religious  duties  with  exactitude,  and  makes  no  complaint 
of  fatigue." 

We  were  now  crossing  the  hall.  I  ventured  on  another 
inquiry. 

"  She  was  a  favorite  pupil  of  yours,  I  believe?" 

The  nun  turned  her  passionless  face  toward  me  with  an  air 
of  mild  surprise  and  reproof. 

"  I  have  no  favorites,"  she  answered,  coldly.  "  All  the  chil- 
dren educated  here  share  my  attention  and  regard  equally." 

I  murmured  an  apology,  and  added  with  a  forced  smile : 

"  You  must  pardon  my  apparent  inquisitiveness,  but  as  the 
future  husband  of  the  lady  who  was  brought  up' under  your 
care,  I  am  naturally  interested  in  all  that  concerns  her." 

Again  the  searching  eyes  of  the  religieuse  surveyed  me ;  she 
sighed  slightly. 

"  I  am  aware  of  the  connection  between  you,"  she  said,  in 
rather  a  pained  tone.  "  Nina  Romani  belongs  to  the  world, 
and  follows  the  ways  of  the  world.  Of  course,  marriage  is  the 
natural  fulfillment  of  most  young  girls'  destinies;  there  are 
comparatively  few  who  are  called  out  of  the  ranks  to  serve 
Christ.  Therefore,  when  Nina  married  the  estimable  Count 
Romani,  of  whom  report  spoke  ever  favorably,  we  rejoiced 
greatly,  feeling  that  her  future  was  safe  in  the  hands  of  a 
gentle  and  wise  protector.  May  his  soul  rest  in  peace!  But 
a  second  marriage  for  her  is  what  I  did  not  expect,  and  what 
I  cannot  in  my  conscience  approve.     You  see  I  speak  frankly." 

"  I  am  honored  that  you  do  s6,  madame !"  I  said,  earnestly, 
feeling  a  certain  respect  for  this  sternly  composed  yet  patient- 
featured  woman ;  "  yet,  though  in  general  you  may  find  any 
reasonable  objections  to  it,  a  second  marriage  is,  I  think,  in 
the  Countess  Romani's  case  almost  necessary.  She  is  utterly 
without  a  protector — she  is  very  young,  and  how  beautiful !" 

The  nun's  eyes  grew  solemn  and  almost  mournful. 


vendetta!  241 

"  Such  beauty  is  a  curse,"  she  answerea,  with  emphasis;  "  a 
fatal— a  fearful  curse !  As  a  child  it  made  her  wayward.  As 
a  woman  it  keeps  her  wayward  still.  Enough  of  this,  signor !" 
and  she  bowed  her  head ;  "  excuse  my  plain  speaking.  Rest 
assured  that  I  wish  you  both  happiness." 

We  had  by  this  time  reached  the  door  of  the  chapel,  through 
which  the  sound  of  the  pealing  organ  poured  forth  in  trium- 
phal surges  of  melody.  Mere  Marguerite  dipped  her  fingers 
in  the  holy  water,  and  signing  herself  with  the  cross,  pointed 
out  a  bench  at  the  back  of  the  church  as  one  that  strangers 
were  allowed  to  occupy.  I  seated  myself,  and  looked  with  a 
certain  soothed  admiration  at  the  picturesque  scene  before  me. 
There  was  the  sparkle  of  twinkling  lights— the  bloom  and 
fragrance  of  flowers.  There  were  silent  rows  of  nuns,  blue- 
robed  and  white-veiled,  kneeling  and  absorbed  in  prayer. 
Behind  these  a  little  cluster  of  youthful  figures  in  black, 
whose  drooped  heads  were  entirely  hidden  in  veils  of  flowing 
white  muslin.  Bethind  these  again,  one  woman's  slight  form 
arrayed  in  heavy  mourning  garments;  her  veil  was  black,  yet 
not  so  thick  but  that  I  could  perceive  the  sheeny  glitter  of 
golden  hair — that  was  my  wife,  I  knew.  Pious  angel !  how 
devout  she  looked!  I  smiled  in  dreary  scorn  as  I  watched 
her;  I  cursed  her  afresh  in  the  name  of  the  man  I  had  killed. 
And  above  all,  surrounded  with  the  luster  of  golden  rays  and 
incrusted  jewels,  the  uncovered  Host  shone  serenely  like  the 
gleam  of  the  morning  star.  The  stately  service  went  on — 
the  organ  music  swept  through  and  through  the  church  as 
though  it  were  a  strong  wind  striving  to  set  itself  free — but 
amid  it  all  I  sat  as  one  in  a  dark  dream,  scarcely  seeing, 
scarcely  hearing — inflexible  and  cold  as  marble.  The  rich 
plaintive  voice  of  one  of  the  nuns  in  the  choir,  singing  the 
Agnus  Dei,  moved  me  to  a  chill  sort  of  wonder.  "  Qui  tollis 
pcccata  mundi" — "  Who  takest  away  the  sins  of  the  world."  No, 
no !  there  are  some  sins  that  can  not  be  taken  away — the  sins 
of  faithless  women,  the  "little"  sins  as  they  are  called  now- 
adays— for  we  have  grown  very  lenient  in  some  things,  and 
very  severe  in  others.  We  will  imprison  the  miserable  wretch 
who  steals  five  francs  from  our  pockets,  but  the  cunning  femi- 
nine thief  who  robs  us  of  our  prestige,  our  name  and  honor- 
able standing  among  our  fellow-men,  escapes  almost  scot-free ; 
she  can  not  be  put  in  prison,  or  sentenced  to  hard  labor — not 
she!    A  pity  it  is  that  Christ  did  not  leave  us  some  injunction 


242  vendetta! 

as  to  what  was  to  be  done  with  such  women — not  the  penitent 
Magdalenes,  but  the  creatures  whose  mouths  are  full  of  lies 
even  when  they  pretend  to  pray — they  who  would  be  capable 
of  trying  to  tempt  the  priest  who  comes  to  receive  their  last 
confessions — they  who  would  even  act  out  a  sham  repentance 
on  their  death-beds  in  order  to  look  well.  What  can  be  done 
with  devils  such  as  these?  Much  has  been  said  latterly  of 
the  wrongs  perpetrated  on  women  by  men ;  will  no  one  take 
up  the  other  side  of  the  question?  We,  the  stronger  sex,  are 
weak  in  this — we  are  too  chivalrous.  When  a  woman  flings 
herself  on  our  mercy  we  spare  her  and  are  silent.  Tortures 
will  not  wring  her  secrets  out  of  us ;  something  holds  us  back 
from  betraying  her.  I  know  not  what  it  can  be — perhaps  it  is 
the  memory  of  our  mothers.  Whatever  it  is,  it  is  certain  that 
many  a  man  allows  himself  to  be  disgraced  rather  than  he  will 
disgrace  a  woman.  But  a  time  is  at  hand  when  this  foolish 
chivalry  of  ours  will  die  out.  On  changera  tout  cela  !  When 
once  our  heavy  masculine  brains  shall  have  grasped  the  novel 
idea  that  woman  has,  by  her  own  wish  and  choice,  resigned  all 
claim  on  our  respect  or  forbearance,  we  shall  have  our  re- 
venge. We  are  slow  to  change  the  traditions  of  our  fore- 
fathers, but  no  doubt  we  shall  soon  manage  to  quench  the  last 
spark  of  knightly  reverence  left  in  us  for  the  female  sex,  as 
this  is  evidently  the  point  the  women  desire  to  bring  us  to. 
We  shall  meet  them  on  that  low  platform  of  the  "  equality" 
they  seek  for,  and  we  shall  treat  them  with  the  unhesitating 
and  regardless  familiarity  they  so  earnestly  invite! 

Absorbed  in  thought,  I  knew  not  when  the  service  ended. 
A  hand  touched  me,  and  looking  up  I  saw  Mere  Marguerite, 
who  whispered : 

"  Follow  me,  if  you  please." 

I  rose  and  obeyed  her  mechanically.  Outside  the  chapel 
door  she  said : 

"  Pray  excuse  me  for  hurrying  you,  but  strangers  are  not 
permitted  to  see  the  nuns  and  boarders  passing  out." 

I  bowed,  and  walked  on  beside  her.  Feeling  forced  to  say 
something,  I  asked : 

"  Have  you  many  boarders  at  this  holiday  season?" 

"  Only  fourteen,"  she  replied,  "  and  they  are  children  whose 
parents  live  far  away.  Poor  little  ones !"  and  the  set  lines  of 
the  nun's  stern  face  softened  into  tenderness  as  she  spoke. 
"We  do  our  best  to  make  them   happy,  but  naturally  they 


vendetta!  243 

feel  lonely.  We  have  generally  fifty  or  sixty  young  girls  here 
besides  the  day  scholars." 

"  A  great  responsibility,"  I  remarked. 

"  Very  great  indeed !"  and  she  sighed ;  "  almost  terrible. 
So  much  of  a  woman's  after  life  depends  on  the  early  training 
she  receives.  We  do  all  we  can,  and  yet  in  some  cases  our 
utmost  efforts  are  in  vain;  evil  creeps  in,  we  know  not  how — 
some  unsuspected  fault  spoils  a  character  that  we  judged  to 
be  admirable,  and  we  are  often  disappointed  in  our  most  prom- 
ising pupils.  Alas!  there  is  nothing  entirely  without  blemish 
in  this  world." 

Thus  talking,  she  showed  me  into  a  small,  comfortable-look- 
ing room,  lined  with  books  and  softly  carpeted. 

"  This  is  one  of  our  libraries,"  she  explained.  "  The  count- 
ess will  receive  you  here,  as  other  visitors  might  disturb 
you  in  the  drawing-room.  Pardon  me,"  and  her  steady  gaze 
had  something  of  compassion  in  it,  "  but  you  do  not  look  well. 
Can  I  send  you  some  wine?" 

I  declined  this  offer  with  many  expressions  of  gratitude, 
and  assured  her  I  was  perfectly  well.  She  hesitated,  and  at 
last  said,  anxiously : 

"  I  trust  you  were  not  offended  at  my  remark  concern- 
ing Nina  Romani's  marriage  with  you?  I  fear  I  was  too 
hasty." 

"  Not  so,  madame,"  I  answered,  with  all  the  earnestness  I 
felt.  "  Nothing  is  more  pleasant  to  me  than  a  frank  opinion 
frankly  spoken.  I  have  been  so  accustomed  to  deception — " 
Here  I  broke  off  and  added  hastily,  "  Pray  do  not  think  me 
capable  of  judging  you  wrongly." 

She  seemed  relieved,  and  smiling  that  shadowy,  flitting 
smile  of  hers,  she  said : 

"  No  doubt  you  are  impatient,  signor ;  Nina  shall  come  to 
you  directly,"  and  with  a  slight  salutation  she  left  me. 

Surely  she  was  a  good  woman,  I  thought,  and  vaguely 
wondered  about  her  past  history — that  past  which  she  had 
buried  forever  under  a  mountain  of  prayers.  What  had  she 
been  like  when  young — before  she  had  shut  herself  within  the 
convent  walls — before  she  had  set  the  crucifix  like  a  seal  on 
her  heart?  Had  she  ever  trapped  a  man's  soul  and  strangled 
it  with  lies?  I  fancied  not — her  look  was  too  pure  and  candid; 
yet  who  could  tell?  W^ere  not  Nina's  eyes  trained  to  appear 
as  though  they  held  the  very  soul  of  truth? 


244  vendetta' 

A  few  minutes  passed.     I  heard  the  fresh  voices  of  children 
singing  in  the  next  room : 

"D'ou  vient  le petit  Gesii? 
Ce  jolt  bouton  de  rose 
Quijletcrit,  en/ant  chert 
Sur  le  cceur  de  not  re  mere  Marie." 

Then  came  a  soft  rustle  of  silken  garments,  the  door  opened, 
and  ray  wife  entered. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

She  approached  with  her  usual  panther-like  grace  and  sup- 
ple movement,  her  red  lips  parted  in  a  charming  smile. 

"  So  good  of  you  to  come !"  she  began,  holding  out  her  two 
hands  as  though  she  invited  an  embrace ;  "  and  on  Christmas 
morning  too !"  She  paused,  and  seeing  that  I  did  not  move  or 
speak,  she  regarded  me  with  some  alarm.  "  What  is  the  mat- 
ter?" she  asked,  in  fainter  tones;  "has  anything  happened?" 

I  looked  at  her.  I  saw  that  she  was  full  of  sudden  fear.  I 
made  no  attempt  to  soothe  her,  I  merely  placed  a  chair. 

"  Sit  down,"  I  said,  gravely.     "  I  am  the  bearer  of  bad  news." 

She  sunk  into  the  chair  as  though  unnerved,  and  gazed  at 
me  with  terrified  eyes.  She  trembled.  Watching  her  keenly, 
I  observed  all  these  outward  signs  of  trepidation  with  deep 
satisfaction.  I  saw  plainly  what  was  passing  in  her  mind.  A 
great  dread  had  seized  her — the  dread  that  I  had  found  out  her 
treachery.  So  indeed  I  had,  but  the  time  had  not  yet  come 
for  her  to  know  it.  Meanwhile  she  suffered — suffered  acutely 
with  that  gnawing  terror  and  suspense  eating  into  her  soul.  I 
said  nothing.  I  waited  for  her  to  speak.  After  a  pause,  during 
which  her  cheeks  had  lost  their  delicate  bloom,  she  said, 
forcing  a  smile  as  she  spoke — 

"Bad  news?  You  surprise  me!  What  can  it  be?  Some 
unpleasantness  with  Guido?    Have  you  seen  him?" 

"  I  have  seen  him,"  I  answered  in  the  same  formal  and  seri- 
ous tone;  "I  have  just  left  him.  He  sends  you //wV,"  and  I 
held  out  my  diamond  ring  that  I  had  drawn  off  the  dead  man's 
finger. 

If  she  had  been  pale  before,  she  grew  paler  now.  All  the 
brilliancy  of  her  complexion  faded  for  the  momeo*  into  an 


vendetta!  245 

awfnl  haggardness.  She  took  the  ring  with  fingers  that  shook 
visibly  and  were  icy  cold.  There  was  no  attempt  at  smilinij 
now.  She  drew  a  sharp  quick  breath  ;  she  thought  I  knew  all. 
I  was  again  silent.  She  looked  at  the  diamond  signet  with  a 
bewildered  air. 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  she  murmured,  petulantly.  "  I  gave 
him  this  as  a  remembrance  of  his  friend,  my  husband;  why 
does  he  return  it?" 

Self-tortured  criminal!  I  studied  her  with  a  dark  amuse- 
ment, but  answered  nothing.  Suddenly  she  looked  up  at  me 
and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  Why  are  you  so  cold  and  strange,  Cesare?"  she  pleaded,  in 
a  sort  of  plaintive  whimper,  "  Do  not  stand  there  like  a 
gloomy  sentinel;  kiss  me  and  tell  me  at  once  what  has 
happened." 

Kiss  her !  So  soon  after  kissing  the  dead  hand  of  her  lover ! 
No,  I  could  not  and  would  not.  I  remained  standing  where  I 
was,  inflexibly  silent.  She  glanced  at  me  again,  very  timidly, 
and  whimpered  afresh. 

"  Ah,  you  do  not  love  me !"  she  murmured.  "  You  could 
not  be  so  stern  and  silent  if  you  loved  me !  If  there  is  indeed 
any  bad  news,  you  ought  to  break  it  to  me  gently  and  kindly. 
I  thought  you  would  always  make  everything  easy  for  me — " 

"  Such  has  been  my  endeavor,  madame,"  I  said,  interrupting 
her  complaint.  "  From  your  own  statement,  I  judged  that 
your  adopted  brother,  Guido  Ferrari,  had  rendered  himself 
obnoxious  to  you.  I  promised  that  I  would  silence  him — you 
remember !    I  have  kept  my  word.     He  is  silenced — forever  ■ ' 

She  started. 

"  Silenced?    How?    You  mean — " 

I  moved  away  from  my  place  behind  her  chair,  and  stood  so 
that  I  faced  her  as  I  spoke. 

"  I  mean  that  he  is  dead." 

She  uttered  a  slight  cry,  not  of  sorrow  but  of  wonderment. 

"  I?ead !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Not  possible !  Dead !  You 
have  killed  him?" 

I  bent  my  head  gravely.  "  I  killed  him— yes!  But  in  open 
combat,  openly  witnessed.  Last  night  he  insulted  me  grossly ; 
we  fought  this  morning.  We  forgave  each  other  before  he 
died." 

She  listened  attentively.  A  little  color  came  back  into  her 
cheeks, 


246  vendetta! 

"  In  what  way  did  he  insult  you?"  she  asked,  in  a  low  voice. 

I  told  her  all,  briefly.     She  still  looked  anxious. 

"  Did  he  mention  my  name?"  she  said. 

I  glanced  at  her  troubled  features  in  profound  contempt. 
She  feared  the  dying  man  might  have  made  some  confession 
to  me !    I  answered : 

"  No ;  not  after  our  quarrel.  But  I  hear  he  went  to  your 
house  to  kill  you !    Not  finding  you  there,  he  only  cursed  you." 

She  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief.     She  was  safe  now,  she  thought ! 

Her  red  lips  widened  into  a  cruel  smile. 

"  What  bad  taste !"  she  said,  coldly.  "  Why  he  should  curse 
me  I  can  not  imagine !  I  have  always  been  kind  to  him — too 
kind." 

Too  kind,  indeed!  kind  enough  to  be  glad  when  the  object 
of  all  her  kindness  was  dead !  For  she  ivas  glad !  I  could  see 
that  in  the  murderous  glitter  of  her  eyes. 

"  You  are  not  sorry?"  I  inquired,  with  an  air  of  pretended 
surprise. 

"Sorry?  Not  at  all!  Why  should  I  be?  He  was  a  very 
agreeable  friend  while  my  husband  was  alive  to  keep  him  in 
order,  but  after  my  poor  Fabio's  death,  his  treatment  of  me 
was  quite  unbearable." 

Take  care,  beautiful  hypocrite !  take  care !  Take  care  lest 
your  "  poor  Fabio's"  fingers  should  suddenly  nip  your  slim 
throat  with  a  convulsive  twitch  that  means  death !  Heaven 
only  knows  how  I  managed  to  keep  my  hands  off  her  at  that 
moment!  Why,  any  groveling  beast  of  the  field  had  more 
feeling  than  this  wretch  whom  I  had  made  my  wife !  Even 
for  Guide's  sake — such  are  the  strange  inconsistencies  of  the 
human  heart — I  could  have  slain  her  then.  But  I  restrained 
my  fury ;  I  steadied  my  voice  and  said  calmly : 

"  Then  I  was  mistaken?  I  thought  you  would  be  deeply 
grieved,  that  my  news  would  shock  and  annoy  you  greatly, 
hence  my  gravity  and  apparent  coldness.  But  it  seems  I  have 
done  well?" 

She  sprung  up  from  her  chair  like  a  pleased  child  and  flung 
her  arms  round  my  neck. 

"  You  are  brave,  you  are  brave !"  she  exclaimed,  in  a  sort  of 
exultation.  "  You  could  not  have  done  otherwise !  He  in- 
sulted you  and  you  killed  him.  That  was  right !  I  love  you 
all  the  more  for  being  such  a  man  of  honor !" 

I  looked  down  upon  her  in  loathing  and  disgust.     H^norl 


vendetta!  247 

Its  very  name  was  libeled  cominj^  from  her  lips.  She  did  not 
notice  the  expression  of  my  face — she  was  absorbed,  excellent 
actress  as  she  was,  in  the  part  she  had  chosen  to  play. 

"  And  so  you  were  dull  and  sad  because  you  feared  to  j^ieve 
me!  Poor  Cesare!"  she  said,  in  child-like  caressing  accents, 
such  as  she  could  assume  when  she  chose.  "  But  now  that  you 
see  I  am  not  unhappy,  you  will  be  cheerful  again?  Yes? 
Think  how  much  I  love  you,  and  how  happy  we  will  be !  And 
see,  you  have  given  me  such  lovely  jewels,  so  many  of  them 
too,  that  I  scarcely  dare  offer  you  such  a  trifle  as  this;  but  as 
it  really  belonged  to  Fabio,  and  to  Fabio's  father,  whom  you 
knew,  I  think  you  ought  to  have  it.  Will  you  take  it  and 
wear  it  to  please  me?"  and  she  slipped  on  my  finger  the 
diamond  signet — my  own  ring! 

I  could  have  laughed  aloud !  but  I  bent  my  head  gravely  as 
I  accepted  it. 

"  Only  as  a  proof  of  your  affection,  cara  mia"  I  said,  "  though 
it  has  a  terrible  association  for  me.  I  took  it  from  Ferrari's 
hand  when — " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know!"  she  interrupted  me  with  a  little  shiver; 
"  it  mxist  have  been  trying  for  you  to  have  seen  him  dead.  I 
think  dead  people  look  so  horrid — the  sight  upsets  the  nerves ! 
I  remember  when  I  was  at  school  here,  they  would  take  me  to 
see  a  nun  who  died;  it  sickened  me  and  made  me  ill  for  days, 
lean  quite  understand  your  feelings.  But  you  must  try  and 
forget  the  matter.  Duels  are  very  common  occurrences,  after 
all !" 

"Very  common,"  I  answered,  mechanically,  still  regarding 
the  fair  upturned  face,  the  lustrous  eyes,  the  rippling  hair; 
"  but  they  do  not  often  end  so  fatally.  The  result  of  this  one 
compels  me  to  leave  Naples  for  some  days.  I  go  to  Avellino 
to-night." 

"  To  Avellino?"  she  exclaimed,  with  interest,  "  Oh,  I  know 
it  very  well.  I  went  there  once  with  Fabio  when  I  was  first 
married." 

"  And  were  you  happy  there?"  I  inquired,  coldly. 

I  remembered  the  time  she  spoke  of — a  time  of  such  un- 
reasoning, foolish  joy! 

"  Happy?  Oh,  yes;  everything  was  so  new  to  me  then.  It 
was  delightful  to  be  my  own  mistress,  and  I  was  so  glad  to  b« 
out  of  the  convent." 

"  I  thought  you  liked  the  nuns?"  I  said. 


248  vendetta! 

"  Some  of  til  em — yes.  The  reverend  mother  is  a  deal  old 
thing.  But  Mere  Marguerite,  the  Vicaire  as  she  is  called — the 
one  that  received  you — oh,  I  do  detest  her!" 

"Indeed!  and  why?" 

The  red  lips  curled  mutinously. 

"  Because  she  is  so  sly  and  silent.  Some  of  the  children 
here  adore  her;  but  they  must\\Q.VQ  something  to  love,  you 
know,"  and  she  laughed  merrily. 

"Must  they?" 

I  asked  the  question  automatically,  merely  for  the  sake  of 
saying  something. 

"  Of  course  they  must,"  she  answered,  gayly.  "  You  foolish 
Cesare!  The  girls  often  play  at  being  one  another's  lovers, 
only  they  are  careful  not  to  let  the  nuns  know  their  game.  It 
is  very  amusing.  Since  I  have  been  here  they  have  what  is 
called  a  'craze'  for  me.  They  give  me  flowers,  run  after  me 
in  the  garden,  and  sometimes  kiss  my  dress,  and  call  me  by 
all  manner  of  loving  names.  I  let  them  do  it  because  it  vexes 
Madame  la  Vicaire;  but  of  course  it  is  very  foolish." 

I  was  silent.  I  thought  what  a  curse  it  was — this  necessity 
of  loving.  Even  the  poison  of  it  must  find  its  way  into  the 
hearts  of  children — young  things  shut  within  the  walls  of  a 
secluded  convent,  and  guarded  by  the  conscientious  care  of 
holy  women. 

"  And  the  nuns?"  I  said,  uttering  half  my  thoughts  aloud. 
"  How  do  they  manage  without  love  or  romance?" 

A  wicked  little  smile,  brilliant  and  disdainful,  glittered  in 
her  eyes. 

"  Do  they  always  manage  without  love  or  romance?"  she 
asked,  half  indolently.  "  What  of  Abelard  and  Heloise,  or 
Fra  Lippi?" 

Roused  by  something  in  her  tone,  I  caught  her  round  the 
waist,  and  held  her  firmly  while  I  said,  with  some  sternness: 

"  And  you — is  it  possible  that  yo^i  have  sympathy  with,  or 
find  amusement  in,  the  contemplation  of  illicit  and  dishonor- 
able passion — tell  me?" 

She  recollected  herself  in  time ;  her  white  eyelids  drooped 
demurely. 

"  Not  I !"  she  answered,  with  a  grave  and  virtuous  air ;  "  how 
can  you  think  so?  There  is  nothing  to  my  mind  so  horrible 
as  deceit;  no  good  ever  comes  of  it." 

I  loosened  her  from  my  embrace. 


vendetta!  249 

"  You  ate  right,"  I  said,  calmly ;  "  I  am  glad  yotir  instincts 
are  so  correct!     I  have  always  hated  lies." 

"  So  have  I!"  she  declared,  earnestly,  with  a  frank  and  open 
look;  "I  have  often  wondered  why  people  tell  them.  They 
are  so  sure  to  be  found  out !" 

I  bit  my  lips  hard  to  shut  in  the  burning  accusations  that 
my  tongue  longed  to  utter.  Why  should  I  damn  the  actress 
or  the  play  before  the  curtain  was  ready  to  fall  on  both?  I 
changed  the  subject  of  converse. 

"  How  long  do  you  propose  remaining  here  in  retreat?"  I 
asked.  "  There  is  nothing  now  to  prevent  your  returning  to 
Naples." 

She  pondered  for  some  minutes  before  replying,  then  she 
said: 

"  I  told  the  superioress  I  came  here  for  a  week.  I  had  better 
stay  till  that  time  is  expired.  Not  longer,  because  as  Guido 
is  really  dead,  my  presence  is  actually  necessary  in  the  city." 

"  Indeed!     May  I  ask  why?" 

She  laughed  a  little  consciously. 

"  Simply  to  prove  his  last  will  and  testament,"  she  replied. 
"  Before  he  left  for  Rome,  he  gave  it  into  my  keeping." 

A  light  flashed  on  my  mind. 

"  And  its  contents?"  I  inquired. 

"  Its  contents  make  i}ie  the  owner  of  everything  he  died  pos- 
sessed of!"  she  said,  with  an  air  of  quiet  yet  malicious 
triumph. 

Unhappy  Guido  I  What  trust  he  had  reposed  in  this  vile, 
self-interested,  heartless  woman !  He  had  loved  her,  even  as 
I  had  loved  her — she  who  was  unworthy  of  any  love !  I  con- 
trolled my  rising  emotion,  and  merely  said  with  gravity : 

"  I  congratulate  you !  May  I  be  permitted  to  see  this 
document?" 

"  Certainly;  I  can  show  it  to  you  now.  I  have  it  here,"  and 
^he  drew  a  Russia-leather  letter-case  from  her  pocket,  and 
opening  it,  handed  me  a  sealed  envelope.  "  Break  the  seal!" 
she  added,  with  childish  eagerness.  "He  closed  it  up  like 
that  after  I  had  read  it." 

With  reluctant  hand,  and  a  pained  piteousness  at  my  heart, 
I  opened  the  packet.  It  was  as  she  had  said,  a  will  drawn  up 
in  perfectly  legal  form,  signed  and  witnessed,  leaving  every- 
thing unconditionally  to  "  Nina,  Countess  Romani,  of  the  Villa 
Romani,  Naples."    I  read  it  through  and  returned  it  to  her. 


250  vendetta! 

"  He  must  have  loved  you!"  I  said. 

She  laughed. 

"  Of  course,"  she  said,  airily,  "  But  many  people  love  me — 
that  is  nothing  new ;  I  am  accustomed  to  be  loved.  But  you 
see,"  she  went  on,  reverting  to  the  will  again,  "it  specifies 
'  roerything  he  dies  possessed  of ;'  that  means  all  the  money  left 
to  him  by  his  uncle  in  Rome,  does  it  not?" 

I  bowed.     I  could  not  trust  myself  to  speak. 

"  I  thought  so,"  she  murmured,  gleefully,  more  to  herself 
than  to  me ;  "  and  I  have  a  right  to  all  his  papers  and  letters." 
There  she  paused  abruptly  and  checked  herself. 

I  understood  her.  She  wanted  to  get  back  her  own  letters 
to  the  dead  man,  lest  her  intimacy  with  him  should  leak  out 
in  some  chance  way  for  which  she  was  unprepared.  Cunning 
devil !  I  was  almost  glad  she  showed  me  to  what  a  depth  of 
vulgar  vice  she  had  fallen.  There  was  no  question  of  pity  or 
forbearance  in  her  case.  If  all  the  tortures  invented  by  savages 
or  stern  inquisitors  could  be  heaped  upon  her  at  once,  such 
punishment  would  be  light  in  comparison  with  her  crimes — 
crimes  for  which,  mark  you,  the  law  gives  you  no  remedy  but 
divorce.  Tired  of  the  wretched  comedy,  I  looked  at  my 
watch. 

"  It  is  time  for  me  to  take  my  leave  of  you,"  I  said,  in  the 
stiff,  courtly  manner  I  affected.  "  Moments  fly  fast  in  your 
enchanting  company !  But  I  have  still  to  walk  to  Castella- 
mare,  there  to  rejoin  my  carriage,  and  I  have  many  things  to 
attend  to  before  my  departure  this  evening.  On  my]  return 
from  Avellino  shall  I  be  welcome?" 

"  You  know  it,"  she  returned,  nestling  her  head  against  my 
shoulder,  while  for  mere  form's  sake  I  was  forced  to  hold  her 
in  a  partial  embrace.  "  I  only  wish  you  were  not  going  at  all. 
Dearest,  do  not  stay  long  away — I  shall  be  so  unhappy  till  you 
come  back!" 

"  Absence  strengthens  love,  they  say,"  I  observed,  with  a 
forced  smile.  "  May  it  do  so  in  our  case.  Farewell,  cara  mia  ! 
Pray  for  me;  I  suppose  you  do  pray  a  great  deal  here?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  replied,  naively;  "there  is  nothing  else  to 
do." 

I  held  her  hands  closely  in  my  grasp.  The  engagement- 
ring  on  her  finger,  and  the  diamond  signet  on  my  own,  flashed 
in  the  light  like  the  crossing  of  swords. 

"  Pray  then,"  I  said,  "  storm  the  gates  of  heaven  with  sw^et- 


VENDETTA !  2  5  I 

voiced  pleadings  for  the  repose  of  poor  Ferrari's  soul !  Re- 
member he  loved  you,  though  j^//  never  loved  him.  For  your 
sake  he  quarreled  with  me,  his  best  friend— for  >'(?«r  sake  he 
died!  Pray  for  him — who  knows,"  and  I  spoke  in  thrilling 
tones  of  earnestness — "  who  knows  but  that  his  too-hastily 
departed  spirit  may  not  be  near  us  now— hearing  our  voices, 
watching  our  looks!" 

She  shivered  slightly,  and  her  hands  in  mine  grew  cold. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  I  continued,  more  calmly ;  "  you  must  not  forget 
to  pray  for  him — he  was  young  and  not  prepared  to  die." 

My  words  had  some  of  the  desired  effect  upon  her — for  once 
her  ready  speech  failed — she  seemed  as  though  she  sought  for 
some  reply  and  found  none.     I  still  held  her  hands. 

"  Promise  me !"  I  continued ;  "  and  at  the  same  time  pray  for 
your  dead  husband !  He  and  poor  Ferrari  were  close  friends, 
you  know :  it  will  be  pious  and  kind  of  you  to  join  their  names 
in  one  petition  addressed  to  Him  'from  whom  no  secrets  are 
hid,'  and  who  reads  with  unerring  eyes  the  purity  of  your  in- 
tentions.    Will  you  do  it?" 

She  smiled,  a  forced,  faint  smile. 

"I  certainly  will,"  she  replied,  in  a  low  voice;  "I  promise 
you." 

I  released  her  hands — I  was  satisfied.  If  she  dared  to  pray 
thus  I  felt — I  knew  that  she  would  draw  down  upon  her  soul 
the  redoubled  wrath  of  Heaven;  for  I  looked  beyond  the 
grave !  The  mere  death  of  her  body  would  be  but  a  slight 
satisfaction  to  me ;  it  was  the  utter  destruction  of  her  wicked 
soul  that  I  sought.  She  should  never  repent,  I  swore;  she 
should  never  have  the  chance  of  casting  off  her  vileness  as  a 
serpent  casts  its  skin,  and,  reclothing  herself  in  innocence, 
presume  to  ask  admittance  into  that  Eternal  Gloryland 
whither  my  little  child  had  gone — never,  never !  No  church 
should  save  her,  no  priest  should  absolve  her — not  while  / 
lived  I 

She  watched  me  as  I  fastened  my  coat  and  began  to  draw  on 
my  gloves. 

"  Are  you  going  now?"  she  asked,  somewhat  timidly. 

"Yes,  I  am  going  now,  cara  mi'a,"  I  said.  "Why!  what 
makes  you  look  so  pale?" 

For  she  had  suddenly  turned  very  white. 

"  Let  me  see  your  hand  again,"  she  demanded,  with  feverish 
eagerness,  "  the  hand  on  which  I  placed  the  ring!" 


2  52  vendetta! 

Smilingly  and  with  readiness  I  took  off  the  glove  I  had  just 
put  on. 

"  What  odd  fancy  possesses  you  now,  little  one?"  I  asked, 
with  an  air  of  playfulness. 

She  made  no  answer,  but  took  my  hand  and  examined  it 
closely  and  curiously.  Then  she  looked  up,  her  lips  twitched 
nervously,  and  she  laughed  a  little  hard  mirthless  laugh. 

"  Your  hand,"  she  murmured,  incoherently,  "  with — that — 
signet — on  it — is  exactly  like — like  Fabio's!" 

And  before  I  had  time  to  say  a  word  she  went  off  into  a 
violent  fit  of  hysterics — sobs,  little  cries,  and  laughter,  all  in- 
termingled in  that  wild  and  reasonless  distraction  that  gener- 
ally unnerves  the  strongest  man  who  is  not  accustomed  to  it. 
I  rang  the  bell  to  summon  assistance ;  a  lay-sister  answered  it, 
and  seeing  Nina's  condition,  rushed  for  a  glass  of  water  and 
summoned  Madame  la  Vicaire.  This  latter,  entering  with  her 
quiet  step  and  inflexible  demeanor,  took  in  the  situation  at  a 
glance,  dismissed  the  lay-sister,  and  possessing  herself  of  the 
tumbler  of  water,  sprinkled  the  forehead  of  the  interesting 
patient,  and  forced  some  drops  between  her  clinched  teeth. 
Then  turning  to  me  she  inquired,  with  some  stateliness  of 
manner,  what  had  caused  the  attack. 

"  I  really  can  not  tell  you,  madame,"  I  said,  with  an  air  of 
affected  concern  and  vexation.  "  I  certainly  told  the  countess 
of  the  unexpected  death  of  a  friend,  but  she  bore  the  news 
with  exemplary  resignation.  The  circumstance  that  appears 
to  have  so  greatly  distressed  her  is  that  she  finds,  or  says  she 
finds,  a  resemblance  between  my  hand  and  the  hand  of  her 
deceased  husband.  This  seems  to  me  absurd,  but  there  is  no 
accounting  for  ladies'  caprices." 

And  I  shrugged  my  shoulders  as  though  I  were  annoyed  and 
impatient.  Over  the  pale,  serious  face  of  the  nun  there  flitted 
a  smile  in  which  there  was  certainly  the  ghost  of  sarcasm. 

"  All  sensitiveness  and  tenderness  of  heart,  you  see !"  she 
said,  in  her  chill,  passionless  tones,  which  icy  as  they  were, 
somehow  conveyed  to  my  ear  another  meaning  than  that  im- 
plied by  the  words  she  uttered.  "  We  can  not  perhaps  under- 
stand the  extreme  delicacy  of  her  feelings,  and  we  fail  to  do 
justice  to  them." 

Here  Nina  opened  her  eyes,  and  looked  at  us  with  piteous 
plaintiveness,  while  her  bosom  heaved  with  those  long,  deep 
sighs  which  are  the  finishing  chords  of  the  Sonata  Hysteria, 


VENDETTA\  253 

"You  are  better,  I  trust?"  continued  the  nun,  without  any 
sympathy  in  her  monotonous  accents,  and  addressing  her  with 
some  reserve.     "  You  have  greatly  alarmed  the  Count  Oliva." 

"  I  am  sorry — "  began  Nina,  feebly. 

I  hastened  to  her  side. 

"  Pray  do  not  speak  of  it!"  I  urged,  forcing  something  like 
a  lover's  ardor  into  my  voice.  "  I  regret  beyond  measure  that 
it  is  my  misfortune  to  have  hands  like  those  of  your  late  hus- 
band !  I  assure  you  I  am  quite  miserable  about  it.  Can  you 
forgive  me?" 

She  was  recovering  quickly,  and  she  was  evidently  conscious 
that  she  had  behaved  somewhat  foolishly.  She  smiled,  a  weak 
pale  smile;  but  she  looked  very  scared,  worn  and  ill.  She 
rose  from  her  chair  slowly  and  languidly. 

"  I  think  I  will  go  to  my  room,"  she  said,  not  regarding  Mere 
Marguerite,  who  had  withdrawn  to  a  little  distance,  and  who 
stood  rigidly  erect,  immovably  featured,  with  her  silver  cru- 
cifix glittering  coldly  on  her  still  breast, 

"  Good-bye,  Cesare !  Please  forget  my  stupidity,  and  write 
to  me  from  Avellino." 

I  took  her  outstretched  hand,  and  bowing  over  it,  touched  it 
gently  with  my  lips.  She  turned  toward  the  door,  when 
suddenly  a  mischievous  idea  seemed  to  enter  her  mind.  She 
looked  at  Madame  la  Vicaire  and  then  came  back  to  me. 

"  Addio,  amor  mio  ! "  she  said,  with  a  sort  of  rapturous  em- 
phasis, and  throwing  her  arms  round  my  neck  she  kissed  me 
almost  passionately. 

Then  she  glanced  maliciously  at  the  nun,  who  had  lowered 
her  eyes  till  they  appeared  fast  shut,  and  breaking  into  a  low 
peal  of  indolently  amused  laughter,  waved  her  hand  to  me, 
and  left  the  room. 

I  was  somewhat  confused.  The  suddenness  and  warmth  of 
her  caress  had  been,  I  knew,  a  mere  monkeyish  trick,  designed 
to  vex  the  religious  scruples  of  Mere  Marguerite.  I  knew  not 
what  to  say  to  the  stately  woman  who  remained  confronting 
me  with  downcast  eyes  and  lips  that  moved  dumbly  as  though 
in  prayer.  As  the  door  closed  after  my  wife's  retreating 
figure,  the  nun  looked  up ;  there  was  a  slight  flush  on  her  pal- 
lid cheeks,  and  to  my  astonishment,  tears  glittered  on  her 
dark  lashes. 

"  Madame,"  I  began,  earnestly,  "  I  assure  you — " 

"  Say  nothing,   signor,"  she  interrupted  me  with  a  slight 


254  vendetta! 

deprecatory  gesture,  "it  is  quite  unnecessary.  To  mock  a 
religieuse  is  a  common  amusement  with  young  girls  and 
women  of  the  world.  I  am  accustomed  to  it,  though  I  feel  its 
cruelty  more  than  I  ought  to  do.  Ladies  like  the  Countess 
Romani  think  that  we — we,  the  sepulchers  of  womanhood — 
sepulchers  that  we  have  emptied  and  cleansed  to  the  best  of 
our  ability,  so  that  they  may  more  fittingly  hold  the  body  of 
the  crucified  Christ ;  these  grandes  dames,  I  say,  fancy  that  we 
are  ignorant  of  all  they  know — that  we  can  not  understand 
love,  tenderness  or  passion.  They  never  reflect — how  should 
they? — that  we  also  have  had  our  histories — histories,  perhaps, 
that  would  make  angels  weep  for  pity !  I,  even  I — "  and  she 
struck  her  breast  fiercely,  then  suddenly  recollecting  herself, 
she  continued  coldly :  "  The  rule  of  our  convent,  signer,  per- 
mits no  visitor  to  remain  longer  than  one  hour — that  hour  has 
expired.     I  will  summon  a  sister  to  show  you  the  way  out." 

"  Wait  one  instant,  madame,"  I  said,  feeling  that  to  enact 
my  part  thoroughly  I  ought  to  attempt  to  make  some  defense 
of  Nina's  conduct;  "  permit  me  to  say  a  word!  My  fiancie  is 
very  young  and  thoughtless.  I  really  can  not  think  that  her 
very  innocent  parting  caress  to  me  had  anything  in  it  that  was 
meant  to  purposely  annoy  you." 

The  nun  glanced  at  me — her  eyes  flashed  disdainfully. 

"  You  think  it  was  all  affection  for  you,  no  doubt,  signor? 
A  very  natural  supposition,  and — I  should  be  sorry  to  un- 
deceive you." 

She  paused  a  moment  and  then  resumed: 

"  You  seem  an  earnest  man — may  be  you  are  destined  to  bs 
the  means  of  saving  Nina;  I  could  say  much — yet  it  is  wise  to 
be  silent.  If  you  love  her  do  not  flatter  her;  her  overweening 
vanity  is  her  ruin.  A  firm,  wise,  ruling  master-hand  may 
perhaps — who  knows?"  She  hesitated  and  sighed,  then  added, 
gently,  "  Farewell,  signor !  Benedicite  !  "  and  making  the  sign 
of  the  cross,  as  I  respectfully  bent  my  head  to  receive  her 
blessing,  she  passed  noiselessly  from  the  room. 

One  moment  later,  and  a  lame  and  aged  lay-sister  came  to 
escort  me  to  the  gate.  As  I  passed  down  the  stone  corridor  a 
side  door  opened  a  very  little  way,  and  two  fair  young  faces 
peeped  out  at  me.  For  an  instant  I  saw  four  laughing  bright 
eyes;  I  heard  a  smothered  voice  say,  "Oh!  c'est  un  vieux 
^aj>a  !  "  and  then  my  guide,  who  though  lame  was  not  blind, 
perceived  the  opened  door  and  shut  it  with  au  angry  bang, 


vendetta!  255 

which,  however,  did  not  drown  the  ringing  merriment  that 
echoed  from  within.  On  reaching  the  outer  gates  I  turned  to 
my  venerable  companion,  and  laying  four  twenty-franc  pieces 
in  her  shriveled  palm,  I  said: 

"  Take  these  to  the  reverend  mother  for  me,  and  ask  that 
mass  may  be  said  in  the  chapel  to-morrow  for  the  repose  of 
the  soul  of  him  whose  name  is  written  here." 

And  I  gave  her  Guido  Ferrari's  visiting-card,  adding  in 
lower  and  more  solemn  tones : 

"  He  met  with  a  sudden  and  unprepared  death.  Of  your 
charity,  pray  also  for  the  man  who  killed  him !" 

The  old  woman  looked  startled,  and  crossed  herself  devoutly ; 
but  she  promised  that  my  wishes  should  be  fulfilled,  and  I 
bade  her  farewell  and  passed  out,  the  convent  gates  closing 
with  a  dull  clang  behind  me.  I  walked  on  a  few  yards,  and 
then  paused,  looking  back.  What  a  peaceful  home  it  seemed ; 
how  calm  and  sure  a  retreat,  with  the  white  Noisette  roses 
crowning  its  ancient  gray  walls !  Yet  what  embodied  curses 
were  pent-up  in  there  in  the  shape  of  girls  growing  to  be 
women ;  women  for  whom  all  the  care,  stern  training  and 
anxious  solicitude  of  the  nuns  would  be  unavailing;  women 
who  would  come  forth  from  even  that  abode  of  sanctity  with 
vile  natures  and  animal  impulses,  and  who  would  hereafter, 
while  leading  a  life  of  vice  and  hypocrisy,  hold  up  this  very 
strictness  of  their  early  education  as  proof  of  their  unimpeach- 
able innocence  and  virtue !  To  such,  what  lesson  is  learned 
by  the  daily  example  of  the  nuns  who  mortify  their  flesh,  fast, 
pray  and  weep?  No  lesson  at  all — nothing,  save  mockery  and 
contempt.  To  a  girl  in  the  heyday  of  youth  and  beauty  the 
life  of  a  religieuse  seems  ridiculous.  "  The  poor  nuns !"  she 
says,  with  a  laugh ;  "  they  are  so  ignorant.  Their  time  is  over 
— mine  has  not  yet  begun."  Few,  very  few,  among  the  thou- 
sands of  young  women  who  leave  the  scene  of  their  quiet 
school-days  for  the  social  whirligig  of  the  world,  ever  learn  to 
take  life  in  earnest,  love  in  earnest,  sorrow  in  earnest.  To 
most  of  them  life  is  a  large  dress-making  and  millinery  estab- 
lishment; love  a  question  of  money  and  diamonds;  sorrow  a 
solemn  calculation  as  to  how  much  or  how  little  mourning  is 
considered  becoming  or  fashionable.  And  for  creatures  such 
as  these  we  men  work — work  till  our  hairs  are  gray  and  our 
backs  bent  with  toil — work  till  all  the  joy  and  zest  of  living 
has  gone  from  us,  and  our  reward  is — what?    Happiness?— 


256  vendetta! 

seldom.  Infidelity? — often.  Ridicule?  Truly  we  ought  to 
be  glad  if  we  are  only  ridiculed  and  thrust  back  to  occupy  the 
second  place  in  our  own  houses ;  our  lady-wives  call  that  "  kind 
treatment."  Is  there  a  married  woman  living  who  does  not 
now  and  then  throw  a  small  stone  of  insolent  satire  at  her 
husband  when  his  back  is  turned?  What,  madame?  You, 
who  read  these  words — you  say  with  indignation :  "  Certainly 
there  is,  and  /  am  that  woman!"  Ah,  truly?  I  salute  you 
profoundly ! — you  are,  no  doubt,  the  one  exception ! 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

AvELLiNO  is  one  of  those  dreamy,  quiet  and  picturesque 
towns  which  have  not  as  yet  been  desecrated  by  the  Vandal 
tourist.  Persons  holding  "  through  tickets"  from  Messrs.  Cook 
or  Gaze  do  not  stop  there — there  are  no  "  sights"  save  the  old 
sanctuary  called  Monte  Vergine  standing  aloft  on  its  rugged 
hill,  with  all  the  memories  of  its  ancient  days  clinging  to  it 
like  a  wizard's  cloak,  and  wrapping  it  in  a  sort  of  mysterious 
meditative  silence.  It  can  look  back  through  a  vista  of  event- 
ful years  to  the  eleventh  century,  when  it  was  erected,  so  the 
people  say,  on  the  ruins  of  a  temple  of  Cybele.  But  what  do 
the  sheep  and  geese  that  are  whipped  abroad  in  herds  by  the 
drovers  Cook  and  Gaze  know  of  Monte  Vergine  or  Cybele? 
Nothing — and  they  care  less;  and  quiet  Avellino  escapes  from 
their  depredations,  thankful  that  it  is  not  marked  on  the  bus- 
iness map  of  the  drovers'  "  runs."  Shut  in  by  the  lofty  Apen- 
nines, built  on  the  slope  of  the  hill  that  winds  gently  down 
into  a  green  and  fruitful  valley  through  which  the  river 
Sabato  rushes  and  gleams  white  against  cleft  rocks  that  look 
like  war-worn  and  deserted  castles,  a  drowsy  peace  encircles  it, 
and  a  sort  of  stateliness,  which,  compared  with  the  riotous  fun 
and  folly  of  Naples,  only  thirty  miles  away,  is  as  though  the 
statue  of  a  nude  Egeria  were  placed  in  rivalry  with  the  painted 
waxen  image  of  a  half-dressed  ballet-dancer.  Few  lovelier 
sights  were  to  be  seen  in  nature  than  a  sunset  from  one  of  the 
smaller  hills  round  Avellino — when  the  peaks  of  the  Apennines 
seem  to  catch  fire  from  the  flaming  clouds,  and  below  them 
the  valleys  are  full  of  those  tender  purple  and  gray  shadows 
that  one  sees  on  the  canvases  of  Salvator  Rosa,  while  the  towu 


vendetta!  257 

itself  looks  like  a  bronzed  carving  on  an  old  shield,  outlined 
clearly  against  the  dazzling  luster  of  the  sky.  To  this  retired 
spot  I  came — glad  to  rest  for  a  time  from  my  work  of  venge- 
ance— glad  to  lay  down  my  burden  of  bitterness  for  a  brief 
space,  and  become,  as  it  were,  human  again,  in  the  sight  of 
the  near  mountains.  For  within  their  close  proximity,  things 
'common,  things  mean  seem  to  slip  from  the  soul — a  sort  of 
largeness  pervades  the  thoughts,  the  cramping  prosiness  of 
daily  life  has  no  room  to  assert  its  sway — a  grand  hush  falls 
on  the  stormy  waters  of  passion,  and  like  a  chidden  babe  the 
strong  man  stands,  dwarfed  to  an  infinite  littleness  in  his  own 
sight,  before  those  majestic  monarchs  of  the  landscape  whose 
large  brows  are  crowned  with  the  blue  circlet  of  heaven. 

I  took  up  my  abode  in  a  quiet,  almost  humble  lodging,  liv- 
ing simply,  and  attended  only  by  Vincenzo.  I  was  tired  of 
the  ostentation  I  had  been  forced  to  practice  in  Naples  in 
order  to  attain  my  ends — and  it  was  a  relief  to  me  to  be  for  a 
time  as  though  I  were  a  poor  man.  The  house  in  which  I 
found  rooms  that  suited  me  was  a  ramblingly  built,  pictur- 
esque little  place,  situated  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  and 
the  woman  who  owned  it  was,  in  her  way,  a  character.  She 
was  a  Roman,  she  told  me,  with  pride  flashing  in  her  black 
eyes — I  could  guess  that  at  once  by  her  strongly  marked  feat- 
ures, her  magnificently  molded  figure,  and  her  free,  firm  tread 
— that  step  which  is  swift  without  being  hasty,  which  is  the 
manner  born  of  Rome.  She  told  me  her  history  in  a  few 
words,  with  such  eloquent  gestures  that  she  seemed  to  live 
through  it  again  as  she  spoke :  her  husband  had  been  a  worker 
in  a  marble  quarry — one  of  his  fellows  had  let  a  huge  piece  of 
1  the  rock  fall  on  him,  and  he  was  crushed  to  death. 
'  "  And  well  do  I  know,"  she  said,  "  that  he  killed  my  Tonio 
purposely,  for  he  would  have  loved  me  had  he  dared.  But  I 
am  a  common  woman,  see  you — and  it  seems  to  me  one  can 
not  lie.  And  when  my  love's  poor  body  was  scarce  covered 
in  the  earth,  that  miserable  one — the  murderer — came  to  me — 
he  offered  marriage.  I  accused  him  of  his  crime — he  denied 
it — he  said  the  rock  slipped  from  his  hands,  he  knew  not  how. 
I  struck  him  on  the  mouth,  and  bade  him  leave  my  sight  and 
take  my  curse  with  him!  He  is  dead  now — and  surely  if  the 
saints  have  heard  me,  his  soul  is  not  in  heaven!" 

Thus  she  spoke  with  flashing  eyes  and  purposeful  energy, 
while  with  her  strong  brown  arms  she  threw  open  the  wide 
17 


258  vendetta! 

casement  of  the  sitting-room  I  had  taken,  and  bade  me  view 
her  orchard.  It  was  a  fresh  gjeen  strip  of  verdure  and  foliage 
— about  eight  acres  of  good  land,  planted  entirely  with  apple- 
trees. 

"  Yes,  truly !"  she  said,  showing  her  white  teeth  in  a  pleased 
smile  as  I  made  the  admiring  remark  she  expected.  "  Avel- 
lino  has  long  had  a  name  for  its  apples — but,  thanks  to  the 
Holy  Mother,  I  think  in  the  season  there  is  no  fruit  in  all  the 
neighborhood  finer  than  mine.  The  produce  of  it  brings  me 
almost  enough  to  live  upon — that  and  the  house,  when  I  can 
find  signori  willing  to  dwell  with  me.  But  few  strangers  come 
hither;  sometimes  an  artist,  sometimes  a  poet — such  as  these 
are  soon  tired  of  gayety,  and  are  glad  to  rest.  To  common 
persons  I  would  not  open  my  door — not  for  pride,  ah,  no!  but 
when  one  has  a  girl,  one  cannot  be  too  careful." 

"  You  have  a  daughter,  then?" 

Her  fierce  eyes  softened. 

"  One — my  Lilla.  I  call  her  my  blessing,  and  too  good  for 
me.  Often  I  fancy  that  it  is  because  she  tends  them  that  the 
trees  bear  so  well,  and  the  apples  are  so  sound  and  sweet! 
And  when  she  drives  the  load  of  fruit  to  market,  and  sits  so 
smilingly  behind  the  team,  it  seems  to  me  that  her  very  face 
brings  luck  to  the  sale." 

I  smiled  at  the  mother's  enthusiasm,  and  sighed.  I  had  no 
fair  faiths  left — I  could  not  even  believe  in  Lilla.  My  land- 
lady, Signora  Monti  as  she  was  called,  saw  that  I  looked 
fatigued,  and  left  me  to  myself — and  during  my  stay  I  saw 
very  little  of  her,  Vincenzo  constituting  himself  my  major- 
domo,  or  rather  becoming  for  my  sake  a  sort  of  amiable  slave, 
always  looking  to  the  smallest  details  of  my  comfort,  and 
studying  my  wishes  with  an  anxious  solicitude  that  touched 
while  it  gratified  me.  I  had  been  fully  three  days  in  my  re- 
treat before  he  ventured  to  enter  upon  any  conversation 
with  me,  for  he  had  observed  that  I  always  sought  to  be  alone, 
that  I  took  long,  solitary  rambles  through  the  woods  and 
across  the  hill — and,  not  daring  to  break  through  my  taciturn- 
ity, he  had  contented  himself  by  merely  attending  to  my 
material  comforts  in  silence.  One  afternoon,  however,  after 
clearing  away  the  remains  of  my  light  luncheon,  he  lingered 
in  the  room. 

"  The  eccellenza  has  not  yet  seen  Lilla  Monti?"  he  asked, 
hesitatingly. 


vendetta!  259 

I  looked  at  him  in  some  surprise.  There  was  a  blush  on  his 
olive-tinted  cheeks  and  an  unusual  sparkle  in  his  eyes.  For 
the  first  time  I  realized  that  this  valet  of  mine  was  a  handsome 
young  fellow. 

"  Seen  Lilla  Monti !"  I  repeated,  half  absently ;  "  oh,  you 
mean  the  child  of  the  landlady?  No,  I  have  not  seen  her. 
Why  do  you  ask?" 

Vincenzo  smiled.  "  Pardon,  eccellenza!  but  she  is  beauti- 
ful, and  there  is  a  saying  in  my  province :  'Be  the  heart  heavy 
as  stone,  the  sight  of  a  fair  face  will  lighten  it!'  " 

I  gave  an  impatient  gesture.  "  All  folly,  Vincenzo!  Beauty 
is  the  curse  of  the  world.  Read  history,  and  you  shall  find 
the  greatest  conquerors  and  sages  ruined  and  disgraced  by  its 
snares." 

He  nodded  gravely.  He  probably  thought  of  the  announce- 
ment I  had  made  at  the  banquet  of  my  own  approaching  mar- 
riage, and  strove  to  reconcile  it  with  the  apparent  inconsist- 
ency of  my  present  observation.  But  he  was  too  discreet  to 
utter  his  mind  aloud — he  merely  said: 

"  No  doubt  you  are  right,  eccellenza.  Still  one  is  glad  to 
see  the  roses  bloom,  and  the  stars  shine,  and  the  foam-bells 
sparkle  on  the  waves — so  one  is  glad  to  see  Lilla  Monti." 

I  turned  round  in  my  chair  to  observe  him  more  closely — 
the  flush  deepened  on  his  cheek  as  I  regarded  him.  I  laughed 
with  a  bitter  sadness. 

"  In  love,  amico,  art  thou?  So  soon ! — three  days — and  thou 
hast  fallen  a  prey  to  the  smile  of  Lilla !     I  am  sorry  for  thee !" 

He  interrupted  me  eagerly. 

"The  eccellenza  is  in  error!  I  would  not  dare — she  is  too 
innocent — she  knows  nothing!  She  is  like  a  little  bird  in  the 
nest,  so  soft  and  tender — a  word  of  love  would  frighten  her; 
I  should  be  a  coward  to  utter  it." 

Well,  well !  I  thought,  what  was  the  use  of  sneering  at  the 
poor  fellow !  Why,  because  my  own  love  had  turned  to  ashes 
in  my  grasp,  should  I  mock  at  those  who  fancied  they  had 
found  the  golden  fruit  of  the  Hesperides?  Vincenzo,  once  a 
soldier,  now  half  courier,  half  valet,  was  something  of  a  poet 
at  heart ;  he  had  the  grave  meditative  turn  of  mind  common 
to  Tuscans,  together  with  that  amorous  fire  that  ever  bums 
under  their  lightly  worn  mask  of  seeming  reserve. 

I  roused  myself  to  appear  interested. 

"  I  see,  Vincenzo,"  I  said,  with  a  kindly  air  of  banter,  "  that 


26o  vendetta! 

the  sight  of  Lilla  Monti  more  than  compensates  you  for  that 
portion  of  the  Neapolitan  carnival  which  you  lose  by  being 
here.  But  why  you  should  wish  me  to  behold  this  paragon  of 
maidens  I  know  not,  unless  you  would  have  me  reg^ret  my 
own  lost  youth." 

A  curious  and  perplexed  expression  flitted  over  his  face.  At 
last  he  said  firmly,  as  though  his  mind  were  made  up : 

"  The  eccellenza  must  pardon  me  for  seeing  what  perhaps  I 
ought  not  to  have  seen,  but — " 

"  But  what?"  I  asked. 

"  Eccellenza,  you  have  not  lost  your  youth." 

I  turned  my  head  toward  him  again — he  was  looking  at  me 
in  some  alarm — he  feared  some  outburst  of  anger. 

"  Well !"  I  said,  calmly.  "  That  is  your  idea,  is  it?  and 
why?" 

"  Eccellenza,  I  saw  you  without  your  spectacles  that  day 
when  you  fought  with  the  unfortunate  Signor  Ferrari.  I 
watched  you  when  you  fired.  Your  eyes  are  beautiful  and 
terrible — the  eyes  of  a  young  man,  though  your  hair  is  white." 

Quietly  I  took  off  my  glasses  and  laid  them  on  the  table  be- 
side me. 

"  As  you  have  seen  me  once  without  them,  you  can  see  me 
again,"  I  observed,  gently.  "I  wear  them  for  a  special  pur- 
pose. Here  in  Avellino  the  purpose  does  not  hold.  Thus  far 
I  confide  in  you.     But  beware  how  you  betray  my  confidence." 

"Eccellenza!"  cried  Vincenzo,  in  truly  pained  accents,  and 
with  a  grieved  look. 

I  rose  and  laid  my  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  There !  I  was  wrong — forgive  me.  You  are  honest ;  you 
have  served  your  country  well  enough  to  know  the  value  of 
fidelity  and  duty.  But  when  you  say  I  have  not  lost  my 
youth,  you  are  wrong,  Vincenzo !  I  have  lost  it — it  has  been 
killed  within  me  by  a  great  sorrow.  The  strength,  the  supple- 
ness of  limb,  the  brightness  of  eye,  these  are  mere  outward 
things;  but  in  the  heart  and  soul  are  the  chill  and  drear  bitter- 
ness of  deserted  age.  Nay,  do  not  smile ;  I  am  in  truth  very 
old — so  old  that  I  tire  of  my  length  of  days ;  yet  again,  not  too 
old  to  appreciate  your  affection,  amico,  and" — here  I  forced  a 
faint  smile,  "  when  I  see  the  maiden  Lilla,  I  will  tell  you 
frankly  what  I  think  of  her." 

Vincenzo  stooped  his  head,  caught  my  hand  within  his  own, 
and  kissed  it,  then  left  the  room  abruptly,  to  hide  the  tears 


vendetta!  261 

that  my  words  had  brought  to  his  eyes.  He  was  sorry  for  me, 
I  could  see,  and  I  judged  him  rightly  when  I  thought  that  the 
very  mystery  surrounding  me  increased  his  attachment.  On 
the  whole  I  was  glad  he  had  seen  me  undisguised,  as  it  was  a 
relief  to  me  to  be  without  my  smoked  glasses  for  a  time,  and 
during  all  the  rest  of  my  stay  at  Avellino  I  never  wore  them 
once. 

One  day  I  saw  Lilla.  I  had  strolled  up  to  a  quaint  church 
situated  on  a  rugged  hill  and  surrounded  by  fine  old  chestnut- 
trees,  where  there  was  a  picture  of  the  Scourging  of  Christ, 
said  to  have  been  the  work  of  Fra  Angelico.  The  little  sanc- 
tuary was  quite  deserted  when  I  entered  it,  and  I  paused  on 
the  threshold,  touched  by  the  simplicity  of  the  place  and 
soothed  by  the  intense  silence.  I  walked  on  tiptoe  up  to  the 
corner  where  hung  the  picture  I  had  come  to  see,  and  as  I  did 
so  a  girl  passed  me  with  a  light  step,  carrying  a  basket  of 
fragrant  winter  narcissi  and  maiden-hair  fern.  Something  in 
her  graceful,  noiseless  movements  caused  me  to  look  after 
her ;  but  she  had  turned  her  back  to  me  and  was  kneeling  at 
the  shrine  consecrated  to  the  Virgin,  having  placed  her  flov/- 
ers  on  the  lowest  step  of  the  altar.  She  was  dressed  in  peas- 
ant costume — a  simple,  short  blue  skirt  and  scarlet  bodice, 
relieved  by  the  white  kerchief  that  was  knotted  about  her 
shoulders;  and  round  her  small  well-shaped  head  the  rich 
chestnut  hair  was  coiled  in  thick  shining  braids. 

I  felt  that  I  must  see  her  face,  and  for  that  reason  went  back 
to  the  church  door  and  waited  till  she  should  pass  out.  Very 
soon  she  came  toward  me,  with  the  same  light  timid  step  that 
I  had  before  noticed,  and  her  fair  young  features  were  turned 
fully  upon  me.  What  was  there  in  those  clear  candid  eyes 
that  made  me  involuntarily  bow  my  head  in  a  reverential 
salutation  as  she  passed?  I  know  not.  It  was  not  beauty — for 
though  the  child  was  lovely  I  had  seen  lovelier;  it  was  some- 
thing inexplicable  and  rare — something  of  a  maidenly  com- 
posure and  sweet  dignity  that  I  had  never  beheld  on  any 
woman's  face  before.  Her  cheeks  flushed  softly  as  she  mod- 
estly returned  my  salute,  and  when  she  was  once  outside  the 
church  door  she  paused,  her  small  white  fingers  still  clasping 
the  carven  brown  beads  of  her  rosary.  She  hesitated  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  spoke  shyly  yet  brightly : 

"  If  the  eccellenza  will  walk  yet  a  little  further  up  the  hill 
he  will  see  a  finer  view  of  the  mcnuntains." 


262  vendetta!  \ 

Something  ramiliar  in  her  look — a  sort  of  reflection  of  her 
mother's  likeness — made  me  sure  of  her  identity.     I  smiled. 

"  Ah !  you  are  Lilla  Monti?" 

She  blushed  again. 

"  Si,  signer.     I  am  Lilla." 

I  let  my  eyes  dwell  on  her  searchingly  and  almost  sadly. 
Vincenzo  was  right:  the  girl  was  beautiful,  not  with  the 
forced  hot-house  beauty  of  the  social  world  and  its  artificial 
constraint,  but  with  the  loveliness  and  fresh  radiance  which 
nature  gives  to  those  of  her  cherished  ones  who  dwell  with 
her  in  peace.  I  had  seen  many  exquisite  women — women  of 
Juno-like  form  and  face — women  whose  eyes  were  basilisks  to 
draw  and  compel  the  souls  of  men — but  I  had  never  seen  any 
so  spiritually  fair  as  this  little  peasant  maiden,  who  stood 
fearlessly  yet  modestly  regarding  me  with  the  innocent  in- 
quiry of  a  child  who  suddenly  sees  something  new,  to  which 
it  is  unaccustomed.  She  was  a  little  fluttered  by  my  earnest 
gaze,  and  with  a  pretty  courtesy  turned  to  descend  the  hill. 
I  said  gently : 

"  You  are  going  home,  fauciulla  mia  ?" 

The  kind  protecting  tone  in  which  I  spoke  reassured  her. 
She  answered  readily : 

"  Si,  signor.  My  mother  waits  for  me  to  help  her  with  the 
eccellenza's  dinner." 

I  advanced  and  took  the  little  hand  that  held  the  rosary. 

"What!"  I  exclaimed,  playfully,  "do  you  still  work  hard, 
little  Lilla,  even  when  the  apple  season  is  over?" 

She  laughed  musically. 

"  Oh !  I  love  work.  It  is  good  for  the  temper.  People  are 
so  cross  when  their  hands  are  idle.  And  many  are  ill  for  the 
same  reason.  Yes,  truly!"  and  she  nodded  her  head  with 
grave  importance,  "  it  is  often  so.  Old  Pietro,  the  cobbler, 
took  to  his  bed  when  he  had  no  shoes  to  mend — yes ;  he  sent 
for  the  priest  and  said  he  would  die,  not  for  want  of  money — 
oh,  no!  he  has  plenty,  he  is  quite  rich — but  because  he  had 
nothing  to  do.  So  my  mother  and  I  found  some  shoes  with 
holes,  and  took  them  to  him;  he  sat  up  in  bed  to  mend  them, 
and  now  he  is  as  well  as  ever !  And  we  are  careful  to  give 
him  something  always." 

She  laughed  again,  and  again  looked  grave. 

"  Yes,  yes !"  she  said,  with  a  wise  shake  of  her  little  glossy 
head,  "  one  can  not  live  without  work.     My  mother  says  that 


vendetta!  263 

good  women  are  never  tired — it  is  only  wicked  persons  who 
are  lazy.  And  that  reminds  me  I  must  make  haste  to  return 
and  prepare  the  eccellenza's  coffee." 

"  Do  you  make  my  coffee,  little  one?"  I  asked,  "  and  dots 
not  Vincenzo  help  you?" 

The  faintest  suspicion  of  a  blush  tinged  her  pretty  cheeks. 

"  Oh,  he  is  very  good,  Vincenzo,"  she  said,  demurely,  with 
downcast  eyes;  "he  is  what  we  call  buon  amico,  yes,  indeed! 
But  he  is  often  glad  when  I  make  coffee  for  him  also;  he  likes 
it  so  much !  He  says  I  do  it  so  well !  But  perhaps  the  eccel- 
lenza  will  prefer  Vincenzo?" 

I  laughed.  She  was  so  naive,  so  absorbed  in  her  little 
duties— such  a  child  altogether. 

"  Nay,  Lilla,  I  am  proud  to  think  you  make  anything  for 
me.  I  shall  enjoy  it  more  now  that  I  know  what  kind  hands 
have  been  at  work.  But  you  must  not  spoil  Vincenzo — you 
will  turn  his  head  if  you  make  his  coffee  too  often." 

She  looked  surprised.  She  did  not  understand.  Evidently 
to  her  mind  Vincenzo  was  nothing  but  a  good-natured  young 
fellow,  whose  palate  could  be  pleased  by  her  culinary  skill ; 
she  treated  him,  I  dare  say,  exactly  as  she  would  have  treated 
one  of  her  own  sex.  She  seemed  to  think  over  my  words  as 
one  who  considers  a  conundrum,  then  she  apparently  gave  it 
up  as  hopeless,  and  shook  her  head  lightly  as  though  dismiss- 
ing the  subject. 

"  Will  the  eccellenza  visit  the  Punto  d'Angelo?"  she  said, 
brightly,  as  she  turned  to  go. 

I  had  never  heard  of  this  place,  and  asked  her  to  what  she 
alluded. 

"It  is  not  far  from  here,"  she  explained;  "it  is  the  view  I 
spoke  of  before.  Just  a  little  further  up  the  hill  you  will  see 
a  flat  gray  rock,  covered  with  blue  gentians.  No  one  knows 
how  they  grow — they  are  always  there,  blooming  in  summer 
and  winter.  But  it  is  said  that  one  of  God's  own  great  angels 
comes  once  in  every  month  at  midnight  to  bless  the  Monte 
Vergine,  and  that  he  stands  on  that  rock.  And  of  course  wher- 
ever the  angels  tread  there  are  flowers,  and  no  storm  can 
destroy  them — not  even  an  avalanche.  That  is  why  the  people 
call  it  the  Punto  d'Angelo.  It  will  please  you  to  see  it,  eccel- 
lenza— it  is  but  a  walk  of  a  little  ten  minutes." 

And  with  a  smile,  and  a  courtesy  as  pretty  and  as  light  as  a 
flower  might  make  to  the  wind,  she  left  me,  half  running,  half 


264  vendetta! 

dancing  down  the  hill,  and  singing  aloud  for  sheer  happiness 
and  innocence  of  heart.  Her  pure  lark-like  notes  floated  up- 
ward toward  me  where  I  stood,  wistfully  watching  her  as  she 
disappeared.  The  warm  afternoon  sunshine  caught  lovingly 
at  her  chestnut  hair,  turning  it  to  a  golden  bronze,  and  touched 
up  the  whiteness  of  her  throat  and  arms,  and  brightened  the 
scarlet  of  her  bodice,  as  she  descended  the  grassy  slope,  and 
was  at  last  lost  to  my  view  amid  the  foliage  of  the  surround- 
ing trees. 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

I  SIGHED  heavily  as  I  resumed  my  walk.  I  realized  all  that 
I  had  lost.  This  lovely  child  with  her  simple  fresh  nature, 
why  had  I  not  met  such  a  one  and  wedded  her  instead  of  the 
vile  creature  who  had  been  my  soul's  undoing?  The  answer 
came  swiftly.  Even  if  I  hadsQQn  her  when  I  was  free,  I  doubt 
if  I  should  have  known  her  value.  We  men  of  the  world  who 
have  social  positions  to  support,  we  see  little  or  nothing  in 
the  peasant  type  of  womanhood;  we  must  marry  "  ladies,"  so- 
called — educated  girls  who  are  as  well  versed  in  the  world's 
ways  as  ourselves,  if  not  more  so.  And  so  we  get  the  Cleo- 
patras,  the  Du  Barrys,  the  Pompadours,  while  unspoiled 
maidens  such  as  Lilla  too  often  become  the  household  drudges 
of  common  mechanics  or  day-laborers,  living  and  dying  in  the 
one  routine  of  hard  work,  and  often  knowing  and  caring  for 
nothing  better  than  the  mountain-hut,  the  farm-kitchen,  or 
the  covered  stall  in  the  market-place.  Surely  it  is  an  ill- 
balanced  world — so  many  mistakes  are  made ;  Fate  plays  us 
so  many  apparently  unnecessary  tricks,  and  we  are  all  of  us 
such  blind  madmen,  knowing  not  whither  we  are  going  from 
one  day  to  another!  I  am  told  that  it  is  no  longer  fashionable 
to  believe  in  a  devil — but  I  care  nothing  for  fashion !  A  devil 
there  is,  I  am  sure,  who  for  some  inscrutable  reason  has  a  share 
in  the  ruling  of  this  planet — a  devil  who  delights  in  mocking 
us  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave.  And  perhaps  we  are  never 
so  hopelessly,  utterly  fooled  as  in  our  marriages! 

Occupied  in  various  thoughts,  I  scarcely  saw  where  I  wan- 
dered, till  a  flashing  glimmer  of  blue  blossoms  recalled  me  to 
the  object  of  my  walk.  I  had  reached  the  Punto  d' Angelo.  It 
was,  as  Lilla  had  said,  a  flat  rock  bare  in  every  place  save  at 


vendetta!  265 

the  summit,  where  it  was  thickly  covered  with  the  lovely  gen- 
tians, flowers  that  are  rare  in  this  part  of  Italy.  Here  then 
the  fabled  angel  paused  in  his  flight  to  bless  the  venerable 
sanctuary  of  Monte  Vergine.  I  stopped  and  looked  around 
me.  The  view  was  indeed  superb — from  the  leafy  bosom  of 
the  valley,  the  green  hills  like  smooth,  undulating  billows 
rolled  upward,  till  their  emerald  verdure  was  lost  in  the  dense 
purple  shadows  and  tall  peaks  of  the  Apennines;  the  town  of 
Avellino  lay  at  my  feet,  small  yet  clearly  defined  as  a  minia- 
ture painting  on  porcelain;  and  a  little  further  beyond  and 
above  me  rose  the  gray  tower  of  the  Monte  Vergine  itself,  the 
one  sad  and  solitary-looking  object  in  all  the  luxuriant  riante 
landscape. 

I  sat  down  to  rest,  not  as  an  intruder  on  the  angel's  flower- 
embroidered  throne,  but  on  a  grassy  knoll  close  by.  And 
then  I  bethought  me  of  a  packet  I  had  received  from  Naples 
that  morning — a  packet  that  I  desired  yet  hesitated  to  open. 
It  had  been  sent  by  the  Marquis  D'Avencourt,  accompanied 
by  a  courteous  letter,  which  informed  me  that  Ferrari's  body 
had  been  privately  buried  with  all  the  last  religious  rites  in 
the  cemetery,  "  close  to  the  funeral  vault  of  the  Romani 
family,"  wrote  D'Avencourt,  "  as,  from  all  we  can  hear  or  dis- 
cover, such  seems  to  have  been  his  own  desire.  He  was,  it 
appears,  a  sort  of  adopted  brother  of  the  lately  deceased  count, 
and  on  being  informed  of  this  circumstance,  we  buried  him  in 
accordance  with  the  sentiments  he  would  no  doubt  have  ex- 
pressed had  he  considered  the  possible  nearness  of  his  own 
end  at  the  time  of  the  combat." 

With  regard  to  the  packet  inclosed,  D'Avencourt  continued 
— "  The  accompanying  letters  were  found  in  Ferrari's  breast- 
pocket, and  on  opening  the  first  one,  in  the  expectation  of 
finding  some  clew  as  to  his  last  wishes,  we  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  you,  as  the  future  husband  of  the  lady  whose 
signature  and  handwriting  you  will  here  recognize,  should  be 
made  aware  of  the  contents,  not  only  for  your  own  sake,  but 
in  justice  to  the  deceased.  If  all  the  letters  are  of  the  same 
tone  as  the  one  I  unknowingly  opened.  I  have  no  doubt  Fer- 
rari considered  himself  a  sufficiently  injured  man.  But  of  that 
you  will  judge  for  yourself,  though,  if  I  might  venture  so  far 
in  the  way  of  friendship,  I  should  recommend  you  to  give 
careful  consideration  to  the  inclosed  correspondence  before 
tying  the  matrimonial  knot  to  which  you  alluded  the  other 


266  vendetta! 

evening.  It  is  not  wise  to  walk  on  the  edge  of  a  precipice 
with  one's  eyes  shut!  Captain  Ciabatti  was  the  first  to  inform 
me  of  what  I  now  know  for  a  fact — namely,  that  Ferrari  left  a 
will  in  which  everything  he  possessed  is  made  over  uncon- 
ditionally to  the  Countess  Romani.  You  will  of  course  draw 
your  own  conclusions,  and  pardon  me  if  I  am  guilty  of  trop 
de  zile  in  your  service.  I  have  now  only  to  tell  you  that  all 
the  unpleasantness  of  this  affair  is  passing  over  very  smoothly 
and  without  scandal — I  have  taken  care  of  that.  You  need 
not  prolong  your  absence  further  than  you  feel  inclined,  and 
I  for  one  shall  be  charmed  to  welcome  you  back  to  Naples. 
With  every  sentiment  of  the  highest  consideration  and  regard, 
I  am,  my  dear  conte, 

"  Your  very  true  friend  and  servitor, 

"  Philippe  D'Avencourt." 

I  folded  this  letter  carefully  and  put  it  aside.  The  little 
package  he  had  sent  me  lay  in  my  hand — a  bundle  of  neatly 
folded  letters  tied  together  with  a  narrow  ribbon,  and  strongly 
perfumed  with  the  faint  sickly  perfume  I  knew  and  abhorred. 
I  turned  them  over  and  over;  the  edges  of  the  note-paper  were 
stained  with  blood — Guido's  blood — as  though  in  its  last  slug- 
gish flowing  it  had  endeavored  to  obliterate  all  traces  of  the 
daintily  penned  lines  that  now  awaited  my  perusal.  Slowly 
I  untied  the  ribbon.  With  methodical  deliberation  I  read  one 
letter  after  the  other.  They  were  all  from  Nina — all  written 
to  Guido  while  he  was  in  Rome,  some  of  them  bearing  the 
dates  of  the  very  days  when  she  had  feigned  to  love  me — me, 
her  newly  accepted  husband.  One  very  amorous  epistle  had 
been  written  on  the  self-same  evening  she  had  plighted  her 
troth  to  me!  Letters  burning  and  tender,  full  of  the  most 
passionate  protestations  of  fidelity,  overflowing  with  the 
sweetest  terms  of  endearment ;  with  such  a  ring  of  truth  and 
love  throughout  them  that  surely  it  was  no  wonder  that 
Guido's  suspicions  were  all  unawakened,  and  that  he  had 
reason  to  believe  himself  safe  in  his  fool's  paradise.  One 
passage  in  this  poetical  and  romantic  correspondence  fixed 
my  attention :  it  ran  thus : 

"  Why  do  you  write  so  much  of  marriage  to  me,  Guido  mio  ? 
It  seems  to  my  mind  that  all  the  joy  of  loving  will  be  taken 
from  us  when  once  the  hard  world  knows  of  our  passion.  If 
vou  become  my  husband  you  will  assuredly  cease  to  be  my 


vendetta!  267 

lover,  and  that  would  break  my  heart.  An,  my  Dcst  beloved ! 
I  desire  you  to  be  my  lover  always,  as  you  were  when  Fabio 
lived — why  bring  commonplace  matrimony  into  the  heaven 
of  such  a  passion  as  ours?" 

I  studied  these  words  attentively.  Of  course  I  understood 
their  drift.  She  had  tried  to  feel  her  way  with  the  dead  man. 
She  had  wanted  to  marry  me,  and  yet  retain  Guido  for  her 
lonely  hours,  as  "  her  lover  always !"  Such  a  pretty,  ingenious 
plan  it  was !  No  thief,  no  murderer  ever  laid  more  cunning 
schemes  than  she,  but  the  law  looks  after  thieves  and  mur- 
derers. For  such  a  woman  as  this,  law  says,  "  Divorce  her — 
that  is  your  best  remedy."  Divorce  her!  Let  the  criminal  go 
scot-free!  Others  may  do  it  that  choose — I  have  different 
ideas  of  justice! 

Tying  up  the  packet  of  letters  again,  with  their  sickening 
perfume  and  their  blood-stained  edges,  I  drew  out  the  last 
graciously  worded  missive  I  had  received  from  Nina.  Of 
course  I  heard  from  her  every  day — she  was  a  most  faithful 
correspondent!  The  same  affectionate  expressions  character- 
ized her  letters  to  me  as  those  that  had  deluded  her  dead  lover 
— with  this  difference,  that  whereas  she  inveighed  much 
against  the  prosiness  of  marriage  to  Guido,  to  me  she  drew  the 
most  touching  pictures  of  her  desolate  condition  :  how  lonely 
she  had  felt  since  her  "  dear  husband's"  death,  how  rejoiced 
she  was  to  think  that  she  was  soon  again  to  be  a  happy  wife — 
the  wife  of  one  so  noble,  so  true,  so  devoted  as  I  was !  She 
had  left  the  convent  and  was  now  at  home — when  should  she 
have  the  happiness  of  welcoming  me,  her  best-beloved  Cesare, 
back  to  Naples?  She  certainly  deserved  some  credit  for 
artistic  lying;  I  could  not  understand  how  she  managed  it  so 
well.  Almost  I  admired  her  skill,  as  one  sometimes  admires 
a  cool-headed  burglar,  who  has  more  skill,  cunning,  and  pluck 
than  his  comrades.  I  thought  with  triumph  that  though  the 
wording  of  Ferrari's  will  enabled  her  to  secure  all  other  letters 
she  might  have  written  to  him,  this  one  little  packet  of  docu- 
mentary evidence  was  more  than  sufficient  for  my  purposes. 
And  I  resolved  to  retain  it  in  my  own  keeping  till  the  time  came 
for  me  to  use  it  against  her. 

And  how  about  D'Avencourt's  friendly  advice  concerning 
the  matrimonial  knot?  "  A  man  should  not  walk  on  the  edge 
of  a  precipice  with  his  eyes  shut."  Very  true.  But  if  his  eyes 
are  open,  and  he  has  his  enemy  by  the  throat,  the  edge  of  a 


268  vendetta! 

precipice  is  a  convenient  position  for  hurling  that  enemy  down 
to  death  in  a  quiet  way,  that  the  world  need  know  nothing  of! 
So  for  the  present  I  preferred  the  precipice  to  walking  on  level 
ground. 

I  rose  from  ray  seat  near  the  Punto  d' Angelo.  It  was  grow- 
ing late  in  the  afternoon.  From  the  little  church  below  me 
soft  bells  rang  out  the  Angelus,  and  with  them  chimed  in  a 
solemn  and  harsher  sound  from  the  turret  of  the  Monte  Ver- 
gine.  I  lifted  my  hat  with  the  customary  reverence,  and  stood 
listening,  with  my  feet  deep  in  the  grass  and  scented  thyme, 
and  more  than  once  glanced  up  at  the  height  whereon  the 
venerable  sanctuary  held  its  post,  like  some  lonely  old  god  of 
memory  brooding  over  vanished  years.  There,  according  to 
tradition,  was  once  celebrated  the  worship  of  the  many- 
breasted  Cybele ;  down  that  very  slope  of  grass  dotted  with 
violets  had  rushed  the  howling,  naked  priests  beating  their 
discordant  drums  and  shrieking  their  laments  for  the  loss  of 
Atys,  the  beautiful  youth,  their  goddess's  paramour.  Infidel- 
ity again ! — even  in  this  ancient  legend,  what  did  Cybele  care 
for  old  Saturn,  whose  wife  she  was?  Nothing,  less  than  noth- 
ing!— and  her  adorers  worshiped  not  her  chastity,  but  her 
faithlessness ;  it  is  the  way  of  the  world  to  this  day ! 

The  bells  ceased  ringing;  I  descended  the  hill  and  returned 
homeward  through  a  shady  valley,  full  of  the  odor  of  pines 
and  bog-myrtle.  On  reaching  the  gate  of  the  Signora  Monti's 
humble  yet  picturesque  dwelling,  I  heard  the  sound  of  laugh- 
ter and  clapping  of  hands,  and  looking  in  the  direction  of  the 
orchard,  I  saw  Vincenzo  hard  at  work,  his  shirt-sleeves  rolled 
up  to  the  shoulder,  splitting  some  goodly  logs  of  wood,  while 
Lilla  stood  beside  him,  merrily  applauding  and  encouraging 
his  efforts.  He  seemed  quite  in  his  element,  and  wielded  hiS! 
ax  with  a  regularity  and  vigor  I  should  scarcely  have  expected 
from  a  man  whom  I  was  accustomed  to  see  performing  the 
somewhat  effeminate  duties  of  a  valet  de  chanibre.  I  watched 
him  and  the  fair  girl  beside  him  for  a  few  moments,  myself 
unperceived. 

If  this  little  budding  romance  were  left  alone  it  would  ripen 
into  a  flower,  and  Vincenzo  would  be  a  happier  man  than  his 
master.  He  was  a  true  Tuscan,  from  the  very  way  he  handled 
his  wood-ax;  I  could  see  that  he  loved  the  life  of  the  hills  and 
fields — the  life  of  a  simple  farmer  and  fruit-grower,  full  of 
innocent   enjoyments,    as   sweet   as   the    ripe   apples  in   his 


vendetta!  269 

orchard.  T  could  foresee  his  future  with  Lilla  beside  him. 
He  would  have  days  of  unwearying  contentment,  rendered 
beautiful  by  the  free  fresh  air  and  the  fragrance  of  flowers — 
his  evenings  would  slip  softly  by  to  the  tinkle  of  the  mando- 
line, and  the  sound  of  his  wife  and  children's  singing. 

What  fairer  fate  could  a  man  desire? — what  life  more  cer- 
tain to  keep  health  in  the  body  and  peace  in  the  mind?  Could 
I  not  help  him  to  his  happiness?  I  wondered.  I,  who  had 
grown  stern  with  long  brooding  upon  my  vengeance — could  I 
not  aid  in  bringing  joy  to  others!  If  I  could,  my  mind  would 
be  somewhat  lightened  of  its  burden — a  burden  grown  heavier 
since  Guido's  death,  for  from  hi.s  blood  had  sprung  forth  a  new 
group  of  Furies,  that  lashed  me  on  to  my  task  with  scorpion 
whips  of  redoubled  wrath  and  passionate  ferocity.  Yet  if  I 
could  do  one  good  action  now — would  it  not  be  as  a  star  shin- 
ing in  the  midst  of  my  soul's  storm  and  darkness?  Just  then 
Lilla  laughed — how  sweetly ! — the  laugh  of  a  very  young  child. 
What  amused  her  now?  I  looked,  and  saw  that  she  had  taken 
the  ax  from  Vincenzo,  and  lifting  it  in  her  little  hands,  was 
endeavoring  bravely  to  imitate  his  strong  and  telling  stroke; 
he  meanwhile  stood  aside  with  an  air  of  smiling  superiority, 
mingled  with  a  good  deal  of  admiration  for  the  slight  active 
figure  arrayed  in  the  blue  kirtle  and  scarlet  bodice,  on  which 
the  warm  rays  of  the  late  sun  fell  with  so  much  amorous  ten- 
derness. Poor  little  Lilla!  A  penknife  would  have  made  as 
much  impression  as  her  valorous  blows  produced  on  the  inflex- 
ible, gnarled,  knotty  old  stump  she  essayed  to  split  in  twain. 
Flushed  and  breathless  with  her  efforts,  she  looked  prettier 
than  ever,  and  at  last,  baffled,  she  resigned  her  ax  to  Vincenzo, 
laughing  gayly  at  her  incapacity  for  wood-cutting,  and  daintily 
shaking  her  apron  free  from  the  chips  and  dust,  till  a  call  from 
her  mother  caused  her  to  run  swiftly  into  the  house,  leaving 
Vincenzo  working  away  as  arduously  as  ever.  I  went  up  to 
him ;  he  saw  me  approaching,  and  paused  in  his  labors  with 
an  air  of  slight  embarrassment. 

"  You  like  this  sort  of  work,  amico?"  I  said,  gently. 

"An  old  habit,  eccellenza — nothing  more.  It  reminds  me 
of  the  days  of  my  youth,  when  I  worked  for  my  mother.  Ah! 
a  pleasant  place  it  was — the  old  home  just  above  Fiesole." 
His  eyes  grew  pensive  and  sad.  "  It  is  all  gone  now — finished. 
That  was  before  I  became  a  soldier.  But  one  thinks  of  it 
sometimes." 


270  vendetta! 

"  I  understand.  And  no  doubt  you  would  be  glad  to  return 
to  the  life  of  your  boyhood?" 

He  looked  a  little  startled. 

"Not  to  leave >w/,  eccellenza!" 

I  smiled  rather  sadly.  "  Not  to  leave  me?  Not  if  you  wed- 
ded Lilla  Monti?" 

His  olive  cheek  flushed,  but  he  shook  his  head. 

"Impossible!     She  would  not  listen  to  me.     She  is  a  child." 

"  She  will  soon  be  a  woman,  believe  me !  A  little  more  of 
your  company  will  make  her  so.  But  there  is  plenty  of  time. 
She  is  beautiful,  as  you  said;  and  something  better  than  that, 
she  is  innocent — think  of  that,  Vincenzo !  Do  you  know  how 
rare  a  thing  innocence  is — in  a  woman?  Respect  it  as  you 
respect  God;  let  her  young  life  be  sacred  to  you." 

He  glanced  upward  reverently. 

"  Eccellenza,  I  would  as  soon  tear  the  Madonna  from  her 
altars  as  vex  or  frighten  Lilla !" 

I  smiled  and  said  no  more,  but  turned  into  the  house.  From 
that  moment  I  resolved  to  let  this  little  love-idyl  have  a  fair 
chance  of  success.  Therefore  I  remained  at  Avellino  much 
longer  than  I  had  at  first  intended,  not  for  my  own  sake,  but 
for  Vincenzo's.  He  served  me  faithfully,  he  should  have  his 
reward.  I  took  a  pleasure  in  noticing  that  my  efforts  to  pro- 
mote his  cause  were  not  altogether  wasted.  I  spoke  with 
Lilla  often  on  indifferent  matters  that  interested  her,  and 
watched  her  constantly  when  she  was  all  unaware  of  my  ob- 
servant gaze.  With  me  she  was  as  frank  and  fearless  as  a 
tame  robin ;  but  after  some  days  I  found  that  she  grew  shy  of 
mentioning  the  name  of  Vincenzo,  that  she  blushed  when  he 
approached  her,  that  she  was  timid  of  asking  him  to  do  any- 
thing for  her;  and  from  all  these  little  signs  I  knew  her  mind, 
as  one  knows  by  the  rosy  streaks  in  the  sky  that  the  sunrise 
is  near. 

One  afternoon  I  called  the  Signora  Monti  to  my  room.  She 
came,  surprised,  and  a  little  anxious.  Was  anything  wrong 
with  the  service?  I  reassured  her  housewifely  scruples,  and 
■'came  to  the  point  at  once. 

"  I  would  speak  to  you  of  your  child,  the  little  Lilla,"  I  said, 
kindly.     "  Have  you  ever  thought  that  she  may  marry?" 

Her  dark  bold  eyes  filled  witli  tears  and  her  lips  quivered. 

"Truly  I  have,"  she  replied  with  a  wistful  sadness;  "but  I 
have  prayed,  perhaps  foolishly,  that  she  would  not  leave  me 


vendetta!  271 

yet.  1  lOve  her  so  well ;  she  is  always  a  babe  to  me,  so  small 
and  sweet !  I  put  the  thought  of  her  marriage  from  me  as  a 
sorrowful  thing." 

"  I  understand  your  feeling,"  I  said.  "  Still,  suppose  your 
daughter  wedded  a  man  who  would  be  to  you  as  a  son,  and 
who  would  not  part  her  from  you? — for  instance,  let  us  say 
Vincenzo?" 

Signora  Monti  smiled  through  her  tears. 

"Vincenzo!  He  is  a  good  lad,  a  very  good  lad,  and  I  love 
him;  but  he  does  not  think  of  Lilla — he  is  devoted  to  the 
eccellenza." 

"  I  am  aware  of  his  devotion,"  I  answered.  "  Still  I  believe 
you  will  find  out  soon  that  he  loves  your  Lilla.  At  present 
he  says  nothing — he  fears  to  offend  you  and  alarm  her;  but 
his  eyes  speak — so  do  hers.  You  are  a  good  woman,  a  good 
mother;  watch  them  both,  you  will  soon  tell  whether  love  is 
between  them  or  no.  And  see,"  here  I  handed  her  a  sealed 
envelope,  "  in  this  you  will  find  notes  to  the  amount  of  four 
thousand  francs."  She  uttered  a  little  cry  of  amazement. 
"  It  is  Lilla's  dowry,  whoever  she  marries,  though  I  think  she 
will  marry  Vincenzo.  Nay — no  thanks,  money  is  of  no  value 
to  me ;  and  this  is  the  one  pleasure  I  have  had  for  many  weary 
months.  Think  well  of  Vincenzo — he  is  an  excellent  fellow. 
And  all  I  ask  of  you  is,  that  you  keep  this  little  dowry  a  secret 
till  the  day  of  your  fair  child's  espousals." 

Before  I  could  prevent  her  the   enthusiastic  woman   had 

seized  my  hand  and  kissed  it.     Then  she  lifted  her  head  with 

the  proiid  free-born  dignity  of  a  Roman  matron ;  her  broad 

bosom  heaved,  and  her  strong  voice  quivered  with  suppressed 

I  emotion. 

"I  thank  you,  signor,"  she  said,  simply,  "for  Lilla's  sake! 
Not  that  my  little  one  needs  more  than  her  mother's  hands 
have  toiled  for,  thanks  be  to  the  blessed  saints  who  have  had 
us  both  in  their  keeping!  But  this  is  a  special  blessing  of 
God  sent  through  your  hands,  and  I  should  be  unworthy  of 
all  prosperity  were  I  not  grateful.  Eccellenza,  pardon  me, 
but  my  eyes  are  quick  to  see  that  you  have  suffered  sorrow. 
Good  actions  lighten  grief!  We  will  pray  for  your  happiness, 
Lilla  and  L  till  the  last  breath  leaves  our  lips.  Believe  it — 
the  name  of  our  benefactor  shall  be  lifted  to  the  saints  night 
and  morning,  and  who  knows  but  good  may  come  of  it!" 

I  smiled  faintly. 


272  vendetta! 

"  Good  will  come  of  it,  my  excellent  signora,  though  I  am 
all  unworthy  of  your  prayers.  Rather  pray,"  and  I  sighed 
heavily,  "  for  the  dead,  'that  they  may  be  loosed  from  their  sins. '  " 

The  good  woman  looked  at  me  with  a  sort  of  kindly  pity 
mingled  with  awe,  then  murmuring  once  more  her  thanks  and 
blessings,  she  left  the  room.  A  few  minutes  after  Vincenzo 
entered.     I  addressed  him  cheerfully. 

"  Absence  is  the  best  test  of  love,  Vincenzo ;  prepare  all  for  our 
departure !     We  shall  leave  Avellino  the  day  after  to-morrow." 

And  so  we  did.  Lilla  looked  slightly  downcast,  but  Vin- 
cenzo seemed  satisfied,  and  I  augured  from  their  faces,  and 
from  the  mysterious  smile  of  Signora  Monti,  that  all  was  going 
well.  I  left  the  beautiful  mountain  town  with  regret,  know- 
ing I  should  see  it  no  more.  I  touched  Lilla' s  fair  cheek 
lightly  at  parting,  and  took  what  I  knew  was  my  last  look  into 
the  sweet  candid  young  face.  Yet  the  consciousness  that  I 
had  done  some  little  good  gave  my  tired  heart  a  sense  of  satis- 
faction and  repose — a  feeling  I  had  not  experienced  since  I 
died  and  rose  again  from  the  dead. 

On  the  last  day  of  January  I  returned  to  Naples,  after  an 
absence  of  more  than  a  month,  and  vas  welcomed  back  by  all 
my  numerous  acquaintance  with  enthusiasm.  The  Marquis 
D'Avencourt  had  informed  me  rightly — the  affair  of  the  duel 
was  a  thing  of  the  past — an  almost  forgotten  circumstance. 
The  carnival  was  in  full  riot,  the  streets  were  scenes  of  fantas- 
tic mirth  and  revelry ;  there  was  music  and  song,  dancing  and 
masquerading,  and  feasting.  But  I  withdrew  from  the  tumult 
of  merriment,  and  absorbed  myself  in  the  necessary  prepara- 
tions for — my  marriage. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

Looking  back  on  the  incidents  of  those  strange  feverish 
weeks  that  preceded  my  wedding-day,  they  seemed  to  me  like 
the  dreams  of  a  dying  man.  Shifting  colors,  confused  images, 
moments  of  clear  light,  hours  of  long  darkness — all  things 
gross,  refined,  material,  and  spiritual  were  shaken  up  in  my 
life  like  the  fragments  in  a  kaleidoscope,  ever  changing  into 
new  forms  and  bewildering  patterns.  My  brain  was  clear; 
yet  I  often  questioned  myself  whether  I  was  not  going  mad — 
whether  all  the  careful  methodical  plans  I  formed  were  but 


vendetta!  273 

the  hazy  fancies  of  a  hopelessly  disordered  mind?  Yet  no; 
each  detail  of  my  scheme  was  too  complete,  too  consistent, 
too  business-like  for  that.  A  madman  may  have  a  method  of 
action  to  a  certain  extent,  but  there  is  always  some  slight 
slip,  some  omission,  some  mistake  which  helps  to  discover  his 
condition.  Now  /forgot  nothing — I  had  the  composed  exact- 
itude of  a  careful  banker  who  balances  his  accounts  with  the 
most  elaborate  regularity.  I  can  laugh  to  think  of  it  all  now; 
but  then — then  I  moved,  spoke,  and  acted  like  a  human  machine 
impelled  by  stronger  forces  than  my  own — in  all  things  pre- 
cise, in  all  things  inflexible. 

Within  the  week  of  my  return  from  Avellino  my  coming 
marriage  with  the  Countess  Romani  was  announced.  Two 
days  after  it  had  been  made  public,  while  sauntering  across 
the  Largo  del  Castello,  I  met  the  ]\iarquis  D'Avencourt.  I 
had  not  seen  him  since  the  morning  of  the  duel,  and  his  pres- 
ence gave  me  a  sort  of  nervous  shock.  He  was  exceedingly 
cordial,  though  I  fancied  he  was  also  slightly  embarrassed. 
After  a  few  commonplace  remarks  he  said,  abruptly : 

"  So  your  marriage  will  positively  take  place?" 

I  forced  a  laugh. 

"  Ma  !  certamcnte  !    Do  you  doubt  it?" 

His  handsome  face  clouded  aud  his  manner  grew  still  more 
constrained. 

"  No ;  but  I  thought— I  had  hoped " 

" Mon  cher"  I  said,  airily,  "I  perfectly  understand  to  what 
you  allude.  But  we  men  of  the  world  are  not  fastidious — we 
know  better  than  to  pay  any  heed  to  the  foolish  love-fancies 
of  a  woman  before  her  marriage,  so  long  as  she  does  not  trick 
us  afterward.  The  letters  you  sent  me  were  trifles,  mere 
trifles!  In  wedding  the  Contessa  Romani  I  assure  you  I  be- 
lieve I  secure  the  most  virtuous  as  well  as  the  most  lovely 
woman  in  Europe!"     And  I  laughed  again  heartily. 

D'Avencourt  looked  puzzled ;  but  he  was  a  punctilious  man, 
and  knew  how  to  steer  clear  of  a  delicate  subject.     He  smiled. 

"  A  la  bonne  hcure"  he  said — "  I  wish  you  joy  with  all  my 
heart !  You  are  the  best  judge  of  your  own  happiness ;  as  for 
me — vive  la  liberty.' " 

And  with  a  gay  parting  salute  he  left  me.  No  one  else  in 
the  city  appeared  to  share  his  foreboding  scruples,  if  he  had 
any,  about  my  forthcoming  marriage.  It  was  everywhere 
talked  of  with  as  much  interest  and  expectation  as  though  it 


274  vendetta! 

were  some  new  amusement  invented  to  heighten  the  merri- 
ment of  carnival.  Among  other  things,  I  earned  the  reputa- 
tion of  being  a  most  impatient  lover,  for  now  I  would  consent 
to  no  delays.  I  hurried  all  the  preparations  on  with  feverish 
precipitation.  I  had  very  little  difficulty  in  persuading  Nina 
that  the  sooner  our  wedding  took  place  the  better ;  she  was  to 
the  full  as  eager  as  myself,  as  ready  to  rush  on  her  own  destruc- 
tion as  Guido  had  been.  Her  chief  passion  was  avarice,  and  the 
repeated  rumors  of  my  supposed  fabulous  wealth  had  aroused 
her  greed  from  the  very  moment  she  had  first  met  me  in  my 
assumed  character  of  the  Count  Oliva.  As  soon  as  her  en- 
gagement to  me  became  known  in  Naples,  she  was  an  object 
of  envy  to  all  those  of  her  own  sex  who,  during  the  previous 
autumn,  had  laid  out  their  store  of  fascinations  to  entrap  me 
in  vain — and  this  made  her  perfectly  happy.  Perhaps  the 
supreraest  satisfaction  a  woman  of  this  sort  can  attain  to  is 
the  fact  of  making  her  less  fortunate  sisters  discontented  and 
miserable!  I  loaded  her,  of  course,  with  the  costliest  gifts, 
and  she,  being  the  sole  mistress  of  the  fortune  left  her  by  her 
"late  husband,"  as  well  as  of  the  unfortunate  Guido's  money, 
set  no  limits  to  her  extravagance.  She  ordered  the  most  ex- 
pensive and  elaborate  costumes;  she  was  engaged  morning 
after  morning  with  dress-makers,  tailors,  and  milliners,  and 
she  was  surrounded  by  a  certain  favored  "  set"  of  female 
friends,  for  whose  benefit  she  displayed  the  incoming  treas- 
ures of  her  wardrobe  till  they  were  ready  to  cry  for  spite  and 
vexation,  though  they  had  to  smile  and  hold  in  their  wrath 
and  outraged  vanity  beneath  the  social  mask  of  complacent 
composure.  And  Nina  loved  nothing  better  than  to  torture 
the  poor  women  who  were  stinted  of  pocket-money  with  the 
sight  of  shimmering  satins,  soft  radiating  plushes,  rich  velvets, 
embroidery  studded  with  real  gems,  pieces  of  costly  old  lace, 
priceless  scents,  and  articles  of  bijouterie;  she  loved  also  to 
dazzle  the  eyes  and  bewilder  the  brains  of  young  girls,  whose 
finest  toilet  was  a  garb  of  simplest  white  stuff,  unadorned  save 
by  a  cluster  of  natural  blossoms,  and  to  send  them  away  sick 
at  heart,  pining  for  they  knew  not  what,  dissatisfied  with 
everything,  and  grumbling  at  fate  for  not  permitting  them 
to  deck  themselves  in  such  marvelous  "  arrangements"  of  cos- 
tume as  those  possessed  by  the  happy,  the  fortunate  future 
Countess  Oliva. 
Poor  maidens!  had  they  but  known  all  they  would  not  have 


*  vendetta!  275 

envied  her!  Women  are  too  fond  of  measuring  happiness  by 
the  amount  of  fine  clothes  they  obtain,  and  I  truly  believe 
dress  is  the  one  thing  that  never  fails  to  console  them.  How 
often  a  fit  of  hysterics  can  be  cut  short  by  the  opportune  ar- 
rival of  a  new  gown ! 

My  wife,  in  consideration  of  her  approaching  second  nup- 
tials, had  thrown  off  her  widow's  crape,  and  now  appeared 
clad  in  those  soft  subdued  half-tints  of  color  that  suited  her 
fragile,  fairy-like  beauty  to  perfection.  All  her  old  witcheries 
and  her  graceful  tricks  of  manner  and  speech  were  put  forth 
again  for  my  benefit.  I  knew  them  all  so  well!  I  understood 
the  value  of  her  light  caresses  and  languishing  looks  so  thor- 
oughly !  She  was  very  anxious  to  attain  the  full  dignity  of 
her  position  as  the  wife  of  so  rich  a  nobleman  as  I  was  reputed 
to  be,  therefore  she  raised  no  objection  when  I  fixed  the  day  of 
our  marriage  for  Giovedi  Grasso.  Then  the  fooling  and 
mumming,  the  dancing,  shrieking,  and  screaming  would  all  be 
at  its  height ;  it  pleased  my  whim  to  have  this  other  piece  of 
excellent  masquerading  take  place  at  the  same  time. 

The  wedding  was  to  be  as  private  as  possible,  owing  to  my 
wife's  "  recent  sad  bereavements,"  as  she  herself  said  with  a 
pretty  sigh  and  tearful,  pleading  glance.  It  would  take  place 
in  the  chapel  of  San  Gennaro,  adjoining  the  cathedral.  We 
were  married  there  before !  During  the  time  that  intervened, 
Nina's  manner  was  somewhat  singular.  To  me  she  was  often 
timid,  and  sometimes  half  conciliatory.  Now  and  then  I 
caught  her  large  dark  eyes  fixed  on  me  with  a  startled,  anxious 
look,  but  this  expression  soon  passed  away.  She  was  subject, 
too,  to  wild  fits  of  merriment,  and  anon  to  moods  of  absorbed 
and  gloomy  silence.  I  could  plainly  see  that  she  was  strung 
up  to  an  extreme  pitch  of  nervous  excitement  and  irritability, 
but  I  asked  her  no  questions.  If — I  thought — if  she  tortured 
herself  with  memories,  all  the  better — if  she  saw,  or  fancied 
she  saw,  the  resemblance  between  me  and  her  "  dear  dead 
Fabio,"  it  suited  me  that  she  should  be  so  racked  and  bewil- 
dered. 

I  came  and  went  to  and  from  the  villa  as  I  pleased.  I  wore 
my  dark  glasses  as  usual,  and  not  even  Giacomo  could  follow 
me  with  his  peering,  inquisitive  gaze ;  for  since  the  night  he 
had  been  hurled  so  fiercely  to  the  ground  by  Guido's  reckless 
and  impatient  hand,  the  poor  old  man  had  been  paralyzed, 
and  had  spoken  no  word.     He  lay   in   an  upper  chamber, 


276  vendetta! 

tended  by  Assunta,  and  my  wife  had  already  written  to  his 
relatives  in  Lombard}',  asking  them  to  send  for  him  home. 

"  Of  what  use  to  keep  him?"  she  had  asked  me. 

True  I  Of  what  use  to  give  even  roof-shelter  to  a  poor  old 
human  creature,  maimed,  broken,  and  useless  for  evermore? 
After  long  years  of  faithful  service,  turn  him  out,  cast  him 
forth!  If  he  die  of  neglect,  starvation,  and  ill-usage,  what 
matter? — he  is  a  worn-out  tool,  his  day  is  done — let  him  perish. 
1  would  not  plead  for  him — why  should  I?  I  had  made  my 
own  plans  for  his  comfort — plans  shortly  to  be  carried  out ; 
and  in  the  mean  time  Assunta  nursed  him  tenderly  as  he  lay 
speechless,  with  no  more  strength  than  a  year-old  baby,  and 
only  a  bewildered  pain  in  his  upturned,  lack-luster  eyes.  One 
incident  occurred  during  these  last  days  of  my  vengeance  that 
struck  a  sharp  pain  to  my  heart,  together  with  a  sense  of 
the  bitterest  anger.  I  had  gone  up  to  the  villa  somewhat  early 
in  the  morning,  and  on  crossing  the  lawn  I  saw  a  dark  form 
stretched  motionless  on  one  of  the  paths  that  led  directly  up 
to  the  house.  I  went  to  examine  it,  and  started  back  in  hor- 
ror— it  was  my  dog  Wyvis  shot  dead.  His  silky  black  head 
and  fore  paws  were  dabbled  in  blood — his  honest  brown  eyes 
were  glazed  with  the  film  of  his  dying  agonies.  Sickened  and 
infuriated  at  the  sight,  I  called  to  a  gardener  who  was  trim- 
ming the  shrubbery. 

"  Who  has  done  this?"  I  demanded. 

The  man  looked  pityingly  at  the  poor  bleeding  remains,  and 
said,  in  a  low  voice : 

"  It  was  madama's  order,  signor.  The  dog  bit  her  yester- 
day; we  shot  him  at  daybreak." 

I  stooped  to  caress  the  faithful  animal's  body,  and  as  I 
stroked  the  silky  coat  my  eyes  were  dim  with  tears. 

"  How  did  it  happen?"  I  asked  in  smothered  accents.  "  Was 
your  lady  hurt?" 

The  gardener  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  sighed. 

"  Ma  I — no !  But  he  tore  the  lace  on  her  dress  with  his  teeth 
and  grazed  her  hand.  It  was  little,  but  enough.  He  will  bite 
no  more — povera  bestia  !  " 

I  gave  the  fellow  five  francs. 

"  I  liked  the  dog,"  I  said  briefly,  "  he  was  a  faithful  creature. 
Bury  him  decently  under  that  tree,"  and  I  pointed  to  the 
giant  cypress  on  the  lawn,  "  and  take  this  money  for  your 
trouble." 


vendetta!  277 

He  looked  surprised  but  grateful,  and  promised  to  do  my 
bidding.  Once  more  sorrowfully  caressing  the  fallen  head  of 
perhaps  the  truest  friend  I  ever  possessed,  I  strode  hastily  into 
the  house,  and  met  Nina  coming  out  of  her  morning-room, 
clad  in  one  of  her  graceful  trailing  garments,  in  which  soft 
lavender  hues  were  blended  like  the  shaded  colors  of  late  and 
early  violets. 

"  .So  Wyvis  has  been  shot?"  I  said,  abruptly. 

She  gave  a  slight  shudder. 

"Oh,  yes;  is  it  not  sad?  But  I  was  compelled  to  have  it 
done.  Yesterday  I  went  past  his  kennel  within  reach  of  his 
chain,  and  he  sprung  furiously  at  me  for  no  reason  at  all. 
See !"  And  holding  up  her  small  hand  she  showed  me  three 
trifling  marks  in  the  delicate  flesh.  "  I  felt  that  you  would  be 
so  unhappy  if  you  thought  I  kept  a  dog  that  was  at  all  danger- 
ous, so  I  determined  to  get  rid  of  him.  It  is  always  painful  to 
have  a  favorite  animal  killed;  but  really  Wyvis  belonged  to 
my  poor  husband,  and  I  think  he  has  never  been  quite  safe 
since  his  master's  death,  and  now  Giacomo  is  ill — " 

"  I  see!"  I  said,  curtly,  cutting  her  explanations  short. 

Within  myself  I  thought  how  much  more  sweet  and  valuable 
was  the  dog's  life  than  hers.  Brave  Wyvis — good  Wyvis! 
He  had  done  his  best — he  had  tried  to  tear  her  dainty  flesh; 
his  honest  instincts  had  led  him  to  attempt  rough  vengeance 
on  the  woman  he  had  felt  was  his  master's  foe.  And  he  had 
met  his  fate,  and  died  in  the  performance  of  duty.  But  I  said 
no  more  on  the  subject.  The  dog's  death  was  not  alluded  to 
again  by  either  Nina  or  myself.  He  lay  in  his  mossy  grave 
under  the  cypress  boughs — his  memory  untainted  by  any  lie, 
and  his  fidelity  enshrined  in  my  heart  as  a  thing  good  and 
gracious,  far  exceeding  the  self-interested  friendship  of  so- 
called  Christian  humanity. 

The  days  passed  slowly  on.  To  the  revelers  who  chased 
the  flying  steps  of  carnival  with  shouting  and  laughter,  no 
doubt  the  hours  were  brief,  being  so  brimful  of  merriment; 
but  to  me,  who  heard  nothing  save  the  measured  ticking  of  my 
own  time-piece  of  revenge,  and  who  saw  naught  save  its  hands, 
that  every  second  drew  nearer  to  the  last  and  fatal  figure  on 
the  dial,  the  very  moments  seemed  long  and  laden  with  weari- 
ness. I  roamed  the  streets  of  the  city  aimlessly,  feeling  more 
like  a  deserted  stranger  than  a  well-known  and  envied  noble- 
man, whose  wealth  made  him  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes.     The 


278  vendetta! 

riotous  glee,  the  music,  the  color  that  whirled  and  reeled 
through  the  great  street  of  Toledo  at  this  season  bewildered 
and  pained  me.  Though  I  knew  and  was  accustomed  to  the 
wild  vagaries  of  carnival,  yet  this  year  they  seemed  to  be  out 
of  place,  distracting,  senseless,  and  all  unfamiliar. 

Sometimes  I  escaped  from  the  city  tumult  and  wandered  out 
to  the  cemetery.  There  I  would  stand,  dreamily  looking  at 
the  freshly  turned  sods  above  Guido  Ferrari's  grave.  No 
stone  marked  the  spot  as  yet,  but  it  was  close  to  the  Romani 
vault — not  more  than  a  couple  of  yards  away  from  the  iron 
grating  that  barred  the  entrance  to  that  dim  and  fatal  charnel- 
house.  I  had  a  drear  fascination  for  the  place,  and  more  than 
once  I  went  to  the  opening  of  that  secret  passage  made  by  the 
brigands  to  ascertain  if  all  was  safe  and  undisturbed.  Every- 
thing was  as  I  had  left  it,  save  that  the  tangle  of  brushwood 
had  become  thicker,  and  weeds  and  brambles  had  sprung  up, 
making  it  less  visible  than  before,  and  probably  rendering  it 
more  impassable.  By  a  fortunate  accident  I  had  secured  the 
key  of  the  vault.  I  knew  that  for  family  burial-places  of  this 
kind  there  are  always  two  keys — one  left  in  charge  of  the 
keeper  of  the  cemetery,  the  other  possessed  by  the  person  or 
persons  to  whom  the  maitsoleum  belongs,  and  this  other  I 
managed  to  obtain. 

On  one  occasion,  being  left  for  some  time  alone  in  my  own 
library  at  the  villa,  I  remembered  that  in  an  upper  drawer  of 
an  old  oaken  escritoire  that  stood  there  had  always  been  a 
few  keys  belonging  to  the  doors  of  cellars  and  rooms  in  the 
house.  I  looked,  and  found  them  lying  there  as  usual ;  they 
all  had  labels  attached  to  them,  signifying  their  use,  and  I 
turned  them  over  impatiently,  not  finding  what  I  sought.  I 
was  about  to  give  up  the  search,  when  I  perceived  a  large 
rusty  iron  key  that  had  slipped  to  the  back  of  the  drawer ;  I 
pulled  it  out,  and  to  my  satisfaction  it  was  labeled  "  Mauso- 
leum." I  immediately  took  possession  of  it,  glad  to  have 
obtained  so  useful  and  necessary  an  implement ;  I  knew  that 
I  should  soon  need  it.  The  cemetery  was  quite  deserted  at 
this  festive  season — no  one  visited  it  to  lay  wreaths  of  flowers 
or  sacred  mementoes  on  the  last  resting-places  of  their  friends. 
In  the  joys  of  the  carnival,  who  thinks  of  the  dead?  In  my 
frequent  walks  there  I  was  always  alone;  I  might  have 
opened  my  own  vault  and  gone  down  into  it  without  being 
Qbseryed,  but  I  did  not ;  I  contented  myself  with  occasionally 


vendetta!  279 

trying  the  key  in  the  lock,  and  assuring  myself  that  it  worked 
without  difficulty. 

Returning  from  one  of  these  excursions  late  on  a  mild  after- 
noon toward  the  end  of  the  week  preceding  my  marriage,  I 
bent  my  steps  toward  the  Molo,  where  I  saw  a  picturesque 
group  of  sailors  and  girls  dancing  one  of  those  fantastic  grace- 
ful dances  of  the  country  in  which  impassioned  movement  and 
expressive  gesticulation  are  everything.  Their  steps  were 
guided  and  accompanied  by  the  sonorous  twanging  of  a  full- 
toned  guitar  and  the  tinkling  beat  of  a  tambourine.  The 
handsome,  animated  faces,  their  flashing  eyes  and  laughing 
lips,  their  gay,  many-colored  costumes,  the  glitter  of  beads  on 
the  brown  necks  of  the  maidens,  the  red  caps  jauntily  perched 
on  the  thick  black  curls  of  the  fishermen — all  made  up  a  pic- 
ture full  of  light  and  life,  thrown  up  into  strong  relief  against 
the  pale  gray  and  amber  tints  of  the  February  sky  and  sea ; 
while  shadowing  overhead  frowned  the  stern  dark  walls  of  the 
Castle  Nuovo. 

It  was  such  a  scene  as  the  English  painter  Luke  Fildes  might 
love  to  depict  on  his  canvas — the  one  man  of  to-day  who, 
though  born  of  the  land  of  opaque  mists  and  rain-burdened 
clouds,  has,  notwithstanding  these  disadvantages,  managed  to 
partly  endow  his  brush  with  the  exhaustless  wealth  and  glow 
of  the  radiant  Italian  color.  I  watched  the  dance  with  a  faint 
sense  of  pleasure — it  was  full  of  so  much  harmony  and  delicacy 
of  rhythm.  The  lad  who  thrummed  the  guitar  broke  out  now 
and  then  into  song — a  song  in  dialect  that  fitted  into  the  music 
of  the  dance  as  accurately  as  a  rosebud  into  its  calyx.  I 
could  not  distinguish  all  the  words  he  sung,  but  the  refrain 
was  always  the  same,  and  he  gave  it  in  every  possible  inflec- 
tion and  variety  of  tone,  from  grave  to  gay,  from  pleading  to 
pathetic, 

"Che  bella  cosa  h  demorire  acctso, 
Nnanze  a  la  porta  de  la  nnamorata  /"* 

meaning  literally—"  How  beautiful  a  thing  to  die,  suddenly 
slain  at  the  door  of  one's  beloved!" 

There  was  no  sense  in  the  thing,  I  thought  half  angrily — it 
was  a  stupid  sentiment  altogether.  Yet  I  could  not  help  smil- 
ing at  the  ragged,  barefooted  rascal  who  sung  it;  he  seemed 
to  feel  such  a  gratification  in  repeating  it,  and  he  rolled  his 

♦Neapolitan  dialect. 


28o  vendetta! 

black  eyes  with  lovelorn  intensity,  and  breathed  forth  signs 
that  sounded  through  his  music  with  quite  a  touching  earnest- 
ness. Of  course  he  was  only  following  the  manner  of  all 
Neapolitans,  namely,  acting  his  song;  they  all  do  it,  and  can 
not  help  themselves.  But  this  boy  had  a  peculiarly  roguish 
way  of  pausing  and  crying  forth  a  plaintive  "  Ah !"  before  he 
added  "  Che  bella  cosa,"  etc.,  which  gave  point  and  piquancy  to 
his  absurd  ditty.  He  was  evidently  brimful  of  mischief — his 
expression  betokened  it;  no  doubt  he  was  one  of  the  most 
thorough  little  scamps  that  ever  played  at  "  morra,"  but  there 
was  a  charm  about  his  handsome  dirty  face  and  unkempt  hair, 
and  I  watched  him  amusedly,  glad  to  be  distracted  for  a  few 
minutes  from  the  tired  inner  workings  of  my  own  unhappy 
thoughts.  In  time  to  come,  so  I  mused,  this  very  boy  might 
learn  to  set  his  song  about  the  "  beloved"  to  a  sterner  key,  and 
might  find  it  meet,  not  to  be  slain  himself,  but  to  slay  her! 
Such  a  thing — in  Naples — was  more  than  probable.  By  and 
by  the  dance  ceased,  and  I  recognized  in  one  of  the  breathless, 
laughing  sailors  my  old  acquaintance  Andrea  Luziani,  with 
whom  I  had  sailed  to  Palermo.  The  sight  of  him  relieved  me 
from  a  difficulty  which  had  puzzled  me  for  some  days,  and  as 
soon  as  the  little  groups  of  men  and  women  had  partially  dis- 
persed, I  walked  up  to  him  and  touched  him  on  the  shoulder. 
He  started,  looked  round  surprised,  and  did  not  appear  to 
recognize  me.  I  remembered  that  when  he  had  seen  me  I  had 
not  grown  a  beard,  neither  had  I  worn  dark  spectacles.  I  re- 
called my  name  to  him;  his  face  cleared  and  he  smiled. 

"  Ah !  buon  giorno,  eccellenza !"  he  cried.  "  A  thousand  par- 
dons that  I  did  not  at  first  know  you!  Often  have  I  thought 
of  you!  often  have  I  heard  your  name — ah!  what  a  name! 
Rich,  great,  generous ! — ah !  what  a  glad  life !  And  on  the 
point  of  marrying — ah,  Dio !  love  makes  all  the  troubles  go — 
so !"  and  taking  his  cigar  from  his  mouth,  he  puffed  a  ring  of 
pale  smoke  into  the  air  and  laughed  gayly.  Then  suddenly 
lifting  his  cap  from  his  clustering  black  hair,  he  added,  "  All 
joy  be  with  you,  eccellenza!" 

I  smiled  and  thanked  him.  I  noticed  he  looked  at  me 
curiously. 

"  You  think  I  have  changed  in  appearance,  my  friend?"  I 
said. 

The  Sicilian  looked  embarrassed. 

"  Ebbene!  we  must  all  change,"  he  answered,  lightly,  evad- 


vendetta!  281 

ing  my  glance.  "  The  days  pass  on — each  day  takes  a  little 
bit  of  youth  away  with  it.    One  grows  old  without  knowing  it !" 

I  laughed. 

"I  see,"  I  observed.  "You  think  I  have  aged  somewhat 
since  you  saw  me?" 

"  A  little,  eccellenza,"  he  frankly  confessed. 

"  I  have  suffered  severe  illness."  I  said,  quietly,  "  and  my 
eyes  are  still  weak  as  you  perceive,"  and  I  touched  my  glasses. 
"  But  I  shall  get  stronger  in  time.  Can  you  come  with  me  for 
a  few  moments?    I  want  your  help  in  a  matter  of  importance." 

He  nodded  a  ready  assent  and  followed  me. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

We  left  the  Molo,  and  paused  at  a  retired  street  corner  lead- 
ing from  the  Chiaja. 

"  You  remember  Carmelo  Neri?"  I  asked. 

Andrea  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  an  air  of  infinite  com- 
miseration. 

"  Ah !  povero  diavolo  !  Well  do  I  remember  him !  A  bold 
fellow  and  brave,  with  a  heart  in  him  too,  if  one  did  but  know 
where  to  find  it.  And  now  he  drags  the  chain!  Well,  well, 
no  doubt  it  is  what  he  deserves;  but  I  say,  and  always  will 
maintain,  there  are  many  worse  men  than  Carmelo." 

I  briefly  related  how  I  had  seen  the  captured  brigand  in  the 
square  at  Palermo  and  had  spoken  with  him.  "  I  mentioned 
you,"  I  added,  "and  he  bade  me  tell  you  Teresa  had  killed 
herself." 

"  Ah !  that  I  well  know,"  said  the  little  captain,  who  had  lis- 
tened to  me  intently,  and  over  whose  mobile  face  flitted  a 
shadow  of  tender  pity,  as  he  sighed.  "  Poverinetta  !  So  fragile 
and  small !  To  think  she  had  the  force  to  plunge  the  knife  in 
her  breast !  As  well  imagine  a  little  bird  flying  down  to  pierce 
itself  on  an  uplifted  bayonet.  Ay,  ay !  women  will  do  strange 
things — and  it  is  certain  she  loved  Carmelo." 

"  You  would  help  him  to  escape  again  if  you  could,  no  doubt?" 
I  inquired  with  a  half  smile. 

The  ready  wit  of  the  Sicilian  instantly  asserted  itself. 

"  No,  eccellenza,"  he  replied,  with  an  air  of  dignity  and 
xnost  virtuous  honesty.     "  No,  no,  not  now.     The  law  is  the 


282  vendetta! 

law,  and  I,  Andrea  Lnziani,  am  not  one  to  break  it.  No,  Car- 
melo  must  take  his  punishment ;  it  is  for  life  they  say — and 
hard  as  it  seems,  it  is  but  just.  When  the  little  Teresa  was 
in  the  question,  look  you,  what  could  I  do?  but  now — let  the 
saints  that  choose  help  Carmelo,  for  I  will  not." 

I  laughed  as  I  met  the  audacious  flash  of  his  eyes ;  I  knew, 
despite  his  protestations,  that  if  Carmelo  Neri  ever  did  get 
clear  of  the  galleys,  it  would  be  an  excellent  thing  for  him  if 
Luziani's  vessel  chanced  to  be  within  reach. 

"  You  have  your  brig  the  'Laura'  still?"  I  asked  him. 

"  Yes,  eccellenza,  the  Madonna  be  praised !  And  she  has 
been  newly  rigged  and  painted,  and  she  is  as  trig  and  trim  a 
craft  as  you  can  meet  with  in  all  the  wide  blue  waters  of  the 
Mediterranean." 

"  Now  you  see,"  I  said,  impressively,  "  I  have  a  friend,  a 
relative,  who  is  in  trouble  :  he  wishes  to  get  away  from  Naples 
quietly  and  in  secret.  Will  you  help  him?  You  shall  be  paid 
whatever  you  think  proper  to  demand." 

The  Sicilian  looked  puzzled.  He  puffed  meditatively  at 
his  cigar  and  remained  silent. 

"  He  is  not  pursued  by  the  law,"  I  continued,  noting  his 
hesitation.  "  He  is  simply  involved  in  a  cruel  difficulty 
brought  upon  him  by  his  own  family — he  seeks  to  escape  from 
unjust  persecution." 

Andrea's  brow  cleared. 

"  Oh,  if  that  is  the  case,  eccellenza,  I  am  at  your  service. 
But  where  does  your  friend  desire  to  go?" 

I  paused  for  a  moment  and  considered. 

"  To  Civita  Vecchia,"  I  said  at  last;  "  from  that  port  he  can 
obtain  a  ship  to  take  him  to  his  further  destination." 

The  captain's  expressive  face  fell — he  looked  very  dubious. 

"  To  Civita  Vecchia  is  a  long  way,  a  very  long  way,"  he 
said,  regretfully ;  "  and  it  is  the  bad  season,  and  there  are  cross 
currents  and  contrary  winds.  With  all  the  wush  in  the  world 
to  please  you,  eccellenza,  I  dare  not  run  the  'Laura'  so  far; 
but  there  is  another  means — " 

And  interrupting  himself  he  considered  awhile  in  silence. 
I  waited  patiently  for  him  to  speak. 

"  Whether  it  would  suit  your  friend  I  know  not,"  he  said  at 
last,  laying  his  hand  confidentially  on  my  arm,  "  but  there  is 
a  stout  brig  leaving  here  for  Civita  Vecchia  on  Friday  morn- 
ing next—" 


'  VENDETTA f  283 

"The  day  after  Giovcdi  Grasso?"  I  queried,  with  a  smile  he 
did  not  understand.     He  nodded. 

"  Exactly  so.  She  carries  a  cargo  of  Lacrima  Cristi,  and 
she  is  a  swift  sailer.  I  know  her  captain — he  is  a  good  soul; 
but,"  and  Andrea  laughed  lightly,  "  he  is  like  the  rest  of  us— 
he  loves  money.  You  do  not  count  the  francs — no.  they  are 
nothing  to  you— but  we  look  to  the  soldi.  Now,  if  it  please 
you,  I  will  make  him  a  certain  offer  of  passage  money,  as  large 
as  you  shall  choose,  also  I  will  tell  him  when  to  expect  his  one 
passenger,  and  I  can  almost  promise  you  that  he  will  not  say 


no 


This  proposal  fitted  in  so  excellently  with  my  plans  that  I 
accepted  it,  and  at  once  named  an  exceptionally  munificent 
sum  for  the  passage  required.  Andrea's  eyes  glistened  as  he 
heard. 

"  It  is  a  little  fortune !"  he  cried,  enthusiastically.  "  Would 
that  I  could  earn  as  much  in  twenty  voyages !  But  one  should 
not  be  churlish — such  luck  can  not  fall  in  all  men's  way." 

I  smiled. 

"  And  do  you  think,  ainico,  I  will  suffer  you  to  go  un- 
rewarded?" I  said.  And  placing  two  twenty-franc  pieces  in 
his  brown  palm  I  added,  "  As  you  rightly  said,  francs  are 
nothing  to  me.  Arrange  this  little  matter  without  difficulty, 
and  you  shall  not  be  forgotten.  You  can  call  at  my  hotel  to- 
morrow or  the  next  day,  when  you  have  settled  everything — 
here  is  the  address,"  and  I  penciled  it  on  my  card  and  gave  it 
to  him;  "but  remember,  this  is  a  secret  matter,  and  I  rely 
upon  you  to  explain  it  as  such  to  your  friend  who  commands 
the  brig  going  to  Civita  Vecchia.  He  must  ask  no  questions 
of  his  passenger — the  more  silence  the  more  discretion — and 
when  once  he  has  landed  at  his  destination  he  will  do  well  to 
straightway  forget  all  about  him.     You  understand?" 

Andrea  nodded  briskly. 

"  Si,  si,  signer.  He  has  a  bad  memory  as  it  is — it  shall 
grow  worse  at  your  command !     Believe  it !" 

I  laughed,  shook  hands,  and  parted  with  the  friendly  little 
fellow,  he  returning  to  the  Molo,  and  I  slowly  walking  home- 
ward by  way  of  the  Villa  Reale.  An  open  carriage  coming 
swiftly  toward  me  attracted  my  attention ;  as  it  drew  nearer  I 
recognized  the  prancing  steeds  and  the  familiar  liveries.  A 
fair  woman  clad  in  olive  velvets  and  Russian  sables  looked  out 
smiling,  atid  waved  her  hand, 


284  vendetta! 

It  was  my  wife — my  betrothed  bride,  and  beside  her  sat  tnc 
Duchess  di  Marina,  the  most  irreproachable  of  matrons, 
famous  for  her  piety  not  only  in  Naples  but  throughout  Italy. 
So  immaculate  was  she  that  it  was  difficult  to  imagine  her 
husband  daring  to  caress  that  upright,  well-dressed  form,  or 
venturing  to  kiss  those  prim  lips,  colder  than  the  carven  beads 
of  her  jeweled  rosary.  Yet  there  was  a  story  about  her  too — 
an  old  story  that  came  from  Padua — of  how  a  young  and  hand- 
some nobleman  had  been  found  dead  at  her  palace  doors, 
stabbed  to  the  heart.  Perhaps — who  knows — he  also  might 
have  thought 

"  Che  bclla  cosa  e  de  tnorire  acctso, 
Nnanzc  a  la  porta  de  la  finamorata  !" 

Some  said  the  duke  had  killed  him ;  but  nothing  could  be 
proved,  nothing  was  certain.  The  duke  was  silent,  50  was  his 
duchess ;  and  Scandal  herself  sat  meekly  with  closed  lips  in 
the  presence  of  this  stately  and  august  couple,  whose  bearing 
toward  each  other  in  society  was  a  lesson  of  complete  etiquette 
to  the  world.  What  went  on  behind  the  scenes  no  one  could 
tell.  I  raised  my  hat  with  the  profoundest  deference  as  the 
carriage  containing  the  two  ladies  dashed  by;  I  knew  not 
which  was  the  cleverest  hypocrite  of  the  two,  therefore  I  did 
equal  honor  to  both.  I  was  in  a  meditative  and  retrospective 
mood,  and  when  I  reached  the  Toledo  the  distracting  noises, 
the  cries  of  the  flower-girls,  and  venders  of  chestnuts  and 
confetti,  the  nasal  singing  of  the  street-rhymers,  the  yells  of 
pufichinello,  and  the  answering  laughter  of  the  populace,  were 
all  beyond  my  endurance.  To  gratify  a  sudden  whim  that 
seized  me,  I  made  my  way  into  the  lowest  and  dirtiest  quar- 
ters of  the  city,  and  roamed  through  wretched  courts  and 
crowded  alleys,  trying  to  discover  that  one  miserable  street 
which  until  now  I  had  always  avoided  even  the  thought  of, 
where  I  had  purchased  the  coral-fisher's  clothes  on  the  day  of 
my  return  from  the  grave.  I  went  in  many  wrong  directions, 
but  at  last  I  found  it,  and  saw  at  a  glance  that  the  old  rag- 
dealer's  shop  was  still  there,  in  its  former  condition  of  hete- 
rogeneous filth  and  disorder.  A  man  sat  at  the  door  smoking, 
but  not  the  crabbed  and  bent  figure  I  had  before  seen — this  was 
a  younger  and  stouter  individual,  with  a  Jewish  cast  of  coun- 
tenance, and  dark,  ferocious  eyes.  I  approached  him,  and 
seeing  by  my  dress  and  manner  that  I  was  some  person  of 


vendetta\  285 

consequence,  he   rose,  drew   his  pipe   from   his   mouth,  and 
raised  his  greasy  cap  with  a  respectful  yet  suspicious  air. 

"  Are  you  the  owner  of  this  place?"  I  asked. 

"  Si,  signor!" 

"  What  has  become  of  the  old  man  who  used  to  live  here?" 

He  laughed,  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  drew  his  pipe-stem 
across  his  throat  with  a  significant  gesture. 

"  So,  signor ! — with  a  sharp  knife !  He  had  a  good  deal  of 
blood,  too,  for  so  withered  a  body.  To  kill  himself  in  that 
fashion  was  stupid:  he  spoiled  an  Indian  shawl  that  was  on 
his  bed,  worth  more  than  a  thousand  francs.  One  would  not 
have  thought  he  had  so  much  blood." 

And  the  fellow  put  back  his  pipe  in  his  mouth  and  smoked 
complacently.     I  heard  in  sickened  silence. 

"  He  was  mad,  I  suppose?"  I  said  at  last. 

The  long  pipe  was  again  withdrawn. 

"  Mad?  Well,  the  people  say  so.  I  for  one  think  he  was 
very  reasonable — all  except  that  matter  of  the  shawl — he 
should  have  taken  that  off  his  bed  first.  But  he  was  wise 
enough  to  know  that  he  was  of  no  use  to  anybody — he  did  the 
best  he  could!     Did  you  know  him,  signor?" 

"  I  gave  him  money  once,"  I  replied,  evasively;  then  taking 
out  a  few  francs  I  handed  them  to  this  evil -eyed,  furtive-look- 
ing son  of  Israel,  who  received  the  gift  with  effusive  gratitude. 

"  Thank  you  for  your  information,"  I  said,  coldly.  "  Good- 
day." 

"  Good-day  to  you,  signor,"  he  replied,  resuming  his  seat 
and  watching  me  curiously  as  I  turned  away. 

I  passed  out  of  the  wretched  street  feeling  faint  and  giddy. 
The  end  of  the  miserable  rag-dealer  had  been  told  to  me 
briefly  and  brutally  enough — yet  somehow  I  was  moved  to  a 
sense  of  regret  and  pity.  Abjectly  poor,  half  crazy,  and 
utterly  friendless,  he  had  been  a  brother  of  mine  in  the  same 
bitterness  and  irrevocable  sorrow.  I  wondered  with  a  half 
shudder — would  my  end  be  like  his?  When  my  vengeance 
was  completed  should  I  grow  shrunken,  and  old,  and  mad,  and 
one  lurid  day  draw  a  sharp  knife  across  my  throat  as  a  finish 
to  my  life's  history?  I  walked  more  rapidly  to  shake  off  the 
morbid  fancies  that  thus  insidiously  crept  in  on  my  brain;  and 
as  before  the  noise  and  glitter  of  the  Toledo  had  been  unbear- 
able, so  now  I  found  it  a  relief  and  a  distraction.  Two 
maskers  bedizened  in  violet  and  gold  whizzed  past  me  like  a 


286  vendetta! 

flash,  one  of  them  yelling  a  stale  jest  concerning  la  nnamorata 
— a  jest  I  scarcely  heard,  and  certainly  had  no  heart  or  wit  to 
reply  to.  A  fair  woman  I  knew  leaned  out  of  a  gayly  draped 
balcony  and  dropped  a  bunch  of  roses  at  my  feet ;  out  of 
courtesy  I  stooped  to  pick  them  up,  and  then  raising  my  hat  I 
saluted  the  dark-eyed  donor,  but  a  few  paces  on  I  gave  them 
away  to  a  ragged  child.  Of  all  flowers  that  bloom,  they  were, 
and  still  are,  the  most  insupportable  to  me.  What  is  it  the 
English  poet  Swinburne  says — 

"  J  shall  never  be  friends  again  with  roses  !" 

My  wife  wore  them  always :  even  on  that  night  when  I  had 
seen  her  clasped  in  Guido's  arms,  a  red  rose  on  her  breast  had 
been  crushed  in  that  embrace — a  rose  whose  withered  leaves 
I  still  possess.  In  the  forest  solitude  where  I  now  dwell  there 
are  no  roses — and  I  am  glad!  The  trees  are  too  high,  the 
tangle  of  bramble  and  coarse  brushwood  too  dense — nothing 
grows  here  but  a  few  herbs  and  field  flowers — weeds  unfit  for 
wearing  by  fine  ladies,  yet  to  my  taste  infinitely  sweeter  than 
all  the  tenderly  tinted  cups  of  fragrance,  whose  colors  and 
odors  are  spoiled  to  me  forever.  I  am  unjust,  say  you?  the 
roses  are  innocent  of  evil?  True  enough,  but  their  perfume 
awakens  memory,  and — I  strive  always  to  forget ! 

I  reached  my  hotel  that  evening  to  find  that  I  was  an  hour 
late  for  dinner,  an  unusual  circumstance,  which  had  caused 
Vincenzo  some  disquietude,  as  was  evident  from  the  relieved 
expression  of  his  face  when  I  entered.  For  some  days  the 
honest  fellow  had  watched  me  with  anxiety ;  my  abstracted 
moods,  the  long  solitary  walks  I  was  in  the  habit  of  taking, 
the  evenings  I  passed  in  my  room  writing,  with  the  doors 
locked — all  this  behavior  on  my  part  exercised  his  patience, 
I  have  no  doubt,  to  the  utmost  limit,  and  I  could  see  he  had 
much  ado  to  observe  his  usual  discretion  and  tact,  and  refrain 
from  asking  questions.  On  this  particular  occasion  I  dined 
very  hastily,  for  I  had  promised  to  join  my  wife  and  two  of 
her  lady  friends  at  the  theater  that  night. 

When  I  arrived  there,  she  was  already  seated  in  her  box, 
looking  radiantly  beautiful.  She  was  attired  in  some  soft, 
sheeny,  clinging  primrose  stuff,  and  the  brigand's  jewels  I  had 
given  her  through  Guido's  hands  flashed  brilliantly  on  her 
uncovered  neck  and  arms.  She  greeted  me  with  her  usual 
child-like  enthusiasm   as   I   entered,  bearing  the   customary 


vendetta!  287 

offering — a  costly  bouquet,  set  in  a  holder  of  mother-of-pearl 
studded  with  turquois,  for  her  acceptance.  I  bowed  to  her 
lady  friends,  both  of  whom  I  knew,  and  then  stood  beside  her 
watching  the  stage.  The  comedietta  played  there  was  the 
airiest  trifle — it  turned  on  the  old  worn-out  story — a  young 
wife,  an  aged,  doting  husband,  and  a  lover  whose  principles 
were,  of  course,  of  the  "noblest"  type.  The  husband  was 
fooled  (naturally),  and  the  chief  amusement  of  the  piece  ap- 
peared to  consist  in  his  being  shut  out  of  his  own  house  in 
dressing-gown  and  slippers  during  a  pelting  storm  of  rain, 
while  his  spouse  (who  was  particularly  specified  as  "  pure") 
enjoyed  a  luxurious  supper  with  her  highly  moral  and  virtuous 
admirer.  My  wife  laughed  delightedly  at  the  poor  jokes  and 
the  stale  epigrams,  and  specially  applauded  the  actress  who 
successfully  supported  the  chief  role.  This  actress,  by  the 
way,  was  a  saucy,  brazen-faced  jade,  who  had  a  trick  of  flash- 
ing her  black  eyes,  tossing  her  head,  and  heaving  her  ample 
bosom  tumultuously  whenever  she  hissed  out  the  words 
Vecchidccio  maladetto*  at  her  discomfited  husband,  which  had 
an  immense  effect  on  the  audience — an  audience  which  entirely 
sympathized  with  her,  though  she  was  indubitably  in  the 
wrong.  I  watched  Nina  in  some  derision  as  she  nodded  her 
fair  head  and  beat  time  to  the  music  with  her  painted  fan.  I 
bent  over  her. 

"  The  play  pleases  you?"  I  asked,  in  a  low  tone. 

"Yes,  indeed!"  she  answered,  with  a  laughing  light  in  her 
eyes.     "  The  husband  is  so  droll !    It  is  all  very  amusing." 

"  The  husband  is  always  droll !"  I  remarked,  smiling  coldly. 
"  It  is  not  a  temptation  to  marry  when  one  knows  that  as  a 
husband  one  must  always  look  ridiculous." 

She  glanced  up  at  me. 

"  Cesare!  You  surely  are  not  vexed?  Of  course  it  is  only 
in  plays  that  it  happens  so!" 

"  Plays,  cara  mia,  are  often  nothing  but  the  reflex  of  real 
life,"  I  said.  "  But  let  us  hope  there  are  exceptions,  and  that 
all  husbands  are  not  fools." 

She  smiled  expressively  and  sweetly,  toyed  with  the  flowers 
I  had  given  her,  and  turned  her  eyes  again  to  the  stage.  I 
said  no  more,  and  was  a  somewhat  moody  companion  for  the 


*  Accursed,  villainous  old  monster. 


2  88  vendetta! 

rest  of  the  evening.     As  we  all  left  the  theater  one  of  the 
ladies  who  had  accompanied  Nina  said  lightly: 

"  You  seem  dull  and  out  of  spirits,  conte." 

I  forced  a  smile. 

"  Not  I,  signora!  Surely  you  do  not  find  me  guilty  of  such 
ungallantry?  Were  I  dull  in  your  company  I  should  prove 
myself  the  most  ungrateful  of  my  sex." 

She  sighed  somewhat  impatiently.  She  was  very  young  and 
very  lovely,  and,  as  far  as  I  knew,  innocent,  and  of  a  more 
thoughtful  and  poetical  temperament  than  most  women. 

"  That  is  the  mere  language  of  compliment,"  she  said,  look- 
ing straightly  at  me  with  her  clear,  candid  eyes.  "  You  are  a 
true  courtier!    Yet  often  I  think  your  courtesy  is  reluctant." 

I  looked  at  her  in  some  surprise. 

"  Reluctant?     Signora,  pardon  me  if  I  do  not  understand!" 

"  I  mean,"  she  continued,  still  regarding  me  steadily,  though 
a  faint  blush  warmed  the  clear  pallor  of  her  delicate  complex- 
ion, "that  you  do  not  really  like  us  women;  you  say  pretty 
things  to  us,  and  you  try  to  be  amiable  in  our  company,  but 
you  are  in  truth  averse  to  our  ways — you  are  sceptical — you 
think  we  are  all  hypocrites." 

I  laughed  a  little  coldly. 

"  Really,  signora,  your  words  place  me  in  a  very  awkward 
position.     Were  I  to  tell  you  my  real  sentiments — " 

She  interrupted  me  with  a  touch  of  her  fan  on  my  arm,  and 
smiled  gravely. 

"You  would  say,  'Y'es,  you  are  right,  signora.  I  never  see 
one  of  your  sex  without  suspecting  treachery. '  Ah,  Signor 
Conte,  we  women  are  indeed  full  of  faults,  but  nothing  can 
blind  our  instinct!"  She  paused,  and  her  brilliant  eyes  soft- 
ened as  she  added  gently,  "  I  pray  your  marriage  may  be  a 
very  happy  one." 

I  was  silent.  I  was  not  even  courteous  enough  to  thank  her 
for  the  wish.  I  was  half  angered  that  this  girl  should  have 
been  able  to  probe  my  thoughts  so  quickly  and  unerringly. 
Was  I  so  bad  an  actor  after  all?  I  glanced  down  at  her  as  she 
leaned  lightly  on  my  arm. 

"  Marriage  is  a  mere  comedietta"  I  said,  abruptly  and  harshly. 
"  We  have  seen  it  acted  to-night.  In  a  few  days  I  shall  play 
the  part  of  the  chief  buffoon — in  other  words,  the  husband." 

And  I  laughed.  My  young  companion  looked  startled, 
almost  frightened,  and  over  her  fair  face  there  flitted  an  ex- 


vendetta!  289 

pression  of  something  like  aversion.     I  did  not  care — why 

should  I? — and  there  was  no  time  for  more  words  between  us, 
for  we  had  reached  the  outer  vestibule  of  the  theater. 

My  wife's  carriage  was  drawn  up  at  the  entrance — my  wife 
herself  was  stepping  into  it.  I  assisted  her,  and  also  her  two 
friends,  and  then  stood  with  uncovered  head  at  the  door  wish- 
ing them  all  the  "  felicissima  nottc."  Nina  put  her  tiny  jeweled 
hand  through  the  carriage  window — I  stooped  and  kissed  it 
lightly.  Drawing  it  back  quickly,  she  selected  a  white  gar- 
denia from  her  bouquet  and  gave  it  to  me  with  a  bewitching 
smile. 

Then  the  glittering  equipage  dashed  away  with  a  whirl  and 
clatter  of  prancing  hoofs  and  rapid  wheels,  and  I  stood  alone 
tinder  the  wide  portico  of  the  theater — alone,  amid  the  press- 
ing throngs  of  the  people  who  were  still  coming  out  of  the 
house — holding  the  strongly  scented  gardenia  in  my  hand  as 
vaguely  as  a  fevered  man  who  finds  a  strange  flower  in  one  of 
his  sick  dreams. 

After  a  minute  or  two  I  suddenly  recollected  myself,  and 
throwing  the  blossom  on  the  ground,  I  crushed  it  savagely 
beneath  my  heel — the  penetrating  odor  rose  from  its  slain 
petals  as  though  a  vessel  of  incense  had  been  emptied  at  my 
feet.  There  was  a  nauseating  influence  in  it;  where  had  I 
inhaled  that  subtle  perfume  last?  I  remembered — Guido  Fer- 
rari had  worn  one  of  those  flowers  in  his  coat  at  my  banquet — 
it  had  been  still  in  his  button-hole  when  I  killed  him! 

I  strode  onward  and  homeward;  the  streets  were  full  of 
mirth  and  music,  but  I  heeded  none  of  it.  I  felt,  rather  than 
saw,  the  quiet  sky  bending  above  me  dotted  with  its  countless 
millions  of  luminous  worlds ;  I  was  faintly  conscious  of  the 
soft  plash  of  murmuring  waves,  mingling  with  the  dulcet 
chords  of  deftly  played  mandolines,  echoing  from  somewhere 
down  by  the  shore ;  but  my  soul  was,  as  it  were,  benumbed — 
my  mind,  always  on  the  alert,  was  for  once  utterly  tired  out — 
my  very  limbs  ached,  and  when  I  at  last  flung  myself  on  my 
bed,  exhausted,  my  eyes  closed  instantly,  and  I  slept  the  heavy, 
motionless  sleep  of  a  man  weary  unto  death. 
19 


290  vendetta! 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

"  Tout  le  monde  vient  a  celui  qui  salt  attendre."  So  wrote 
the  great  Napoleon.  The  virtue  of  the  aphorism  consists  in 
the  little  words  qui  salt.  All  the  world  comes  to  him  who 
knmos  how  to  wait.  /  knew  this,  and  I  had  waited,  and  my 
world — a  world  of  vengeance — came  to  me  at  last. 

The  slow-revolving  wheel  of  Time  brought  me  to  the  day 
before  my  strange  wedding — the  eve  of  my  remarriage  with 
my  own  wife !  All  the  preparations  were  made — nothing  was 
left  tmdone  that  could  add  to  the  splendor  of  the  occasion. 
For  though  the  nuptial  ceremony  was  to  be  somewhat  quiet 
and  private  in  character,  and  the  marriage  breakfast  was  to 
include  only  a  few  of  our  more  intimate  acquaintances,  the 
proceedings  were  by  no  means  to  terminate  tamely.  The 
romance  of  these  remarkable  espousals  was  not  to  find  its  con- 
clusion in  bathos.  No ;  the  bloom  and  aroma  of  the  interest- 
ing event  were  to  be  enjoyed  in  the  evening,  when  a  grand 
supper  and  ball,  given  by  me,  the  happy  and  much-to-be- 
envied  bridegroom,  was  to  take  place  in  the  hotel  which  I  had 
made  my  residence  for  so  long.  No  expense  was  spared  for 
this,  the  last  entertainment  offered  by  me  in  my  brilliant 
career  as  the  successful  Count  Cesare  Oliva.  After  it,  the 
dark  curtain  would  fall  on  the  played-out  drama,  never  to  rise 
again. 

Everything  that  art,  taste,  and  royal  luxury  could  suggest 
was  included  in  the  arrangements  for  this  brilliant  ball,  to 
which  a  hundred  and  fifty  guests  had  been  invited,  not  one  of 
whom  had  refused  to  attend. 

And  now — now,  in  the  afternoon  of  this,  the  last  of  my  self- 
imposed  probation — I  sat  alone  with  my  fair  wife  in  the  draw- 
ing-room of  the  Villa  Romani,  conversing  lightly  on  various 
subjects  connected  with  the  festivities  of  the  coming  morrow. 
The  long  windows  were  open — the  warm  spring  sunlight  lay 
like  a  filmy  veil  of  woven  gold  on  the  tender  green  of  the 
young  grass,  birds  sung  for  joy  and  flitted  from  branch  to 
branch,  now  poising  hoveringly  above  their  nests,  now  soaring 
with  all  the  luxury  of  perfect  liberty  into  the  high  heaven  of 
cloudless  blue — the  great  creamy  buds  of  the  magnolia  looked 
ready  to  burst  into  wide  and  splendid  flower  between  their 


VENDETlAt  291 

large,  darkly  shining  leaves,  the  odor  of  violets  and  primroses 
floated  on  every  delicious  breath  of  air,  and  round  the  wide 
veranda  the  climbing  white  china  roses  had  already  unfurled 
their  little  crumpled  rosette-like  blossoms  to  the  balmy  wind. 
It  was  spring  in  Southern  Italy — spring  in  the  land  where, 
above  all  other  lands,  spring  is  lovely— sudden  and  brilliant 
in  its  beauty  as  might  be  the  smile  of  a  happy  angel.  Gran 
Dio! — talk  of  angels!  Had  I  not  a  veritable  angel  for  my 
companion  at  that  moment?  What  fair  being,  even  in  Mo- 
hammed's Paradise  of  Houris,  could  outshine  such  charms  as 
those  which  it  was  my  proud  privilege  to  gaze  upon  withoui 
rebuke — dark  eyes,  rippling  golden  hair,  a  dazzling  and  per- 
fect face,  a  form  to  tempt  the  virtue  of  a  Galahad,  and  lips 
that  an  emperor  might  long  to  touch — in  vain?  Well,  no ! — not 
altogether  in  vain:  if  his  imperial  majesty  could  offer  a  bribe 
large  enough — let  us  say  a  diamond  the  size  of  a  pigeon's  egg 
— he  might  possibly  purchase  one,  nay ! — perhaps  two  kisses 
from  that  seductive  red  mouth,  sweeter  than  the  ripest  straw- 
berry. I  glanced  at  her  furtively  from  time  to  time  when  she 
was  not  aware  of  my  gaze ;  and  glad  was  I  of  the  sheltering 
protection  of  the  dark  glasses  I  wore,  for  I  knew  and  felt  that 
there  was  a  terrible  look  in  my  eyes — the  look  of  a  half- 
famished  tiger  ready  to  spring  on  some  long-desired  piece  of 
prey.  She  herself  was  exceptionally  bright  and  cheerful ;  with 
her  riajite  features  and  agile  movements,  she  reminded  me  of 
some  tropical  bird  of  gorgeous  plumage  swaying  to  and  fro 
on  a  branch  of  equally  gorgeous  blossom. 

"You  are  like  a  prince  in  a  fairy  tale,  Cesare,"  she  said, 
with  a  little  delighted  laugh;  "  everything  you  do  is  superbly 
I  done !     How  pleasant  it  is  to  be  so  rich — there  is  nothing  bet- 
ter in  all  the  world." 

"  Except  love !"  I  returned,  with  a  grim  attempt  to  be  senti- 
mental. 

Her  large  eyes  softened  like  the  pleading  eyes  of  a  tame 
fawn. 

"Ah,  yes!"  and  she  smiled  with  expressive  tenderness, 
"  except  love.  But  when  one  has  both  love  and  wealth,  what 
a  paradise  life  can  be ! " 

"  So  great  a  paradise,"  I  assented,  "  that  it  is  hardly  worth 
while  trying  to  get  into  heaven  at  all !  Will  you  make  earth 
a  heaven  for  me,  Nina  mia,  or  will  you  only  love  me  as  much 
— or  as  little — as  you  loved  your  late  husband?" 


292  vendbtta! 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  pouted  like  a  spoiled 
child. 

"  Why  are  you  so  fond  of  talking  about  my  late  husband, 
Cesare?"  she  asked,  peevishly;  "I  am  so  tired  of  his  name! 
Besides,  one  does  not  always  care  to  be  reminded  of  dead 
people — and  he  died  so  horribly  too !  I  have  often  told  you 
that  I  did  not  love  him  at  all.  I  liked  him  a  little,  and  I  was 
quite  ill  when  that  dreadful  monk,  who  looked  like  a  ghost 
himself,  came  and  told  me  he  was  dead.  Fancy  hearing  such 
a  piece  of  news  suddenly,  while  I  was  actually  at  luncheon 
with  Gui — Signor  Ferrari!  We  were  both  shocked,  of  course, 
but  I  did  not  break  my  heart  over  it.  Now  I  really  do  love 
you- 

I  drew  nearer  to  her  on  the  couch  where  she  sat,  and  put  one 
arm  round  her. 

"  You  really  do?"  I  asked,  in  a  half-incredulous  tone ;  "  you 
*ire  quite  sure.'" 

She  laughed  and  nestled  her  head  on  my  shoulder. 

"  I  am  quite  sure !  How  many  times  have  you  asked  me 
that  absurd  question?  What  can  I  say,  what  can  I  do-to  make 
you  believe  me?" 

"  Nothing,"  I  answered,  and  answered  truly,  for  certainly 
nothing  she  could  say  or  do  would  make  me  believe  her  for  a 
moment.  "  But  how  do  you  love  me — for  myself  or  for  my 
wealth?" 

She  raised  her  head  with  a  proud,  graceful  gesture. 

"  For  yourself,  of  course !  Do  you  think  mere  wealth  could 
ever  win  wjv  affection?  No,  Cesare!  I  love  you  for  your  own 
sake — your  own  merits  have  made  you  dear  to  me." 

I  smiled  bitterly.  She  did  not  see  the  smile.  I  slowly 
caressed  her  silky  hair. 

"  For  that  sweet  answer,  cartssima  inia,  you  shall  have  your 
reward.  You  called  me  a  fairy  prince  just  now — perhaps  I 
merit  that  title  more  than  you  know.  You  remember  the 
jewels  I  sent  you  before  we  ever  met?" 

"  Remember  them !"  she  exclaimed.  "  They  are  my  choicest 
ornaments.     Such  scparure  is  fit  for  an  empress." 

"  And  an  empress  of  beauty  wears  them !"  I  said,  lightly. 
"  But  they  are  mere  trifles  compared  to  other  gems  which  I 
possess,  and  which  I  intend  to  offer  for  your  acceptance." 

Her  eyes  glistened  with  avarice  and  expectancy. 

"Oh,  let  me  see  them!"   she  cried.     "If  they  are  lovelier 


vendetta!  293 

than  those  I  already  have,  they  must  be  indeed  magnificent  I 
And  are  they  all  for  me?" 

"All  for  you!"  I  replied,  drawing  her  closer,  and  playing 
with  the  small  white  hand  on  which  the  engagement-ring  I 
had  placed  there  sparkled  so  bravely.  "  All  for  my  bride.  A 
little  hoard  of  bright  treasures;  red  rubies,  ay — as  red  as 
blood — diamonds  as  brilliant  as  the  glittering  of  crossed  dag- 
gers— sapphires  as  blue  as  the  lightning — pearls  as  pure  as  the 
little  folded  hands  of  a  dead  child — opals  as  dazzlingly  change- 
ful as  woman's  love!  Why  do  you  start?"  for  she  had  moved 
restlessly  in  my  embrace.  "  Do  I  use  bad  similes?  Ah,  cara 
tfii'a,  I  am  no  poet !  I  can  but  speak  of  things  as  they  seem  to 
my  poor  judgment.  Yes,  these  precious  things  are  for  you, 
bcllissima;  you  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  take  them,  and  may 
they  bring  you  much  joy!" 

A  momentary  pallor  had  stolen  over  her  face  while  I  was 
speaking — speaking  in  my  customary  hard,  harsh  voice,  which 
I  strove  to  render  even  harder  and  harsher  than  usual — but  she 
soon  recovered  from  whatever  passing  emotion  she  may  have 
felt,  and  gave  herself  up  to  the  joys  of  vanity  and  greed,  the 
paramount  passions  of  her  nature. 

"  I  shall  have  the  finest  jewels  in  all  Naples!"  she  laughed, 
delightedly.  "  How  the  women  will  envy  me !  But  where  are 
these  treasures?    May  I  see  them  now — immediately?" 

"  No,  not  quite  immediately,"  I  replied,  with  a  gentle  de- 
rision that  escaped  her  observation.  "  To-morrow  night — our 
marriage  night — you  shall  have  them.  And  I  must  also  fulfill 
a  promise  I  made  to  you.  You  wish  to  see  me  for  once  with- 
out these,"  and  I  touched  my  dark  glasses — "  is  it  not  so?" 

She  raised  her  eyes,  conveying  into  their  lustrous  depths  an 
expression  of  melting  tenderness. 

"  Yes,"  she  murmured;  "  I  want  to  see  you  as  you  are!" 

"I  fear  you  will  be  disappointed,"  I  said,  with  some  irony, 
"  for  my  eyes  are  not  pleasant  to  look  at." 

"  Never  mind,"  she  retunied,  gayly.  "  I  shall  be  satisfied  if 
I  see  them  just  once,  and  we  need  not  have  much  light  in  the 
room,  as  the  light  gives  you  pain.  I  would  not  be  the  cause 
of  suffering  to  you— no,  not  for  all  the  world !" 

"You  are  very  amiable,"  I  answered,  "  more  so  than  I  de- 
serve. I  hope  I  may  prove  worthy  of  your  tenderness !  But 
to  return  to  the  subject  of  the  jewels.  I  wish  you  to  see  them 
for  yourself  and  choose  the  best  among  them.     Will  you  come 


2  94  vendetta! 

with  me  to-morrow  night?  and  I  will  show  you  where  they 
are." 

She  laughed  sweetly. 

"  Are  you  a  miser,  Cesare? — and  have  you  some  secret  hid- 
ing-place full  of  treasure  like  Aladdin?" 

I  smiled, 

"  Perhaps  I  have,"  I  said.  "  There  are  exceptional  cases  in 
which  one  fears  to  trust  even  to  a  bank.  Gems  such  as  those 
I  have  to  offer  you  are  almost  priceless,  and  it  would  be  un- 
wise, almost  cruel,  to  place  such  tempting  toys  within  the  reach 
of  even  an  honest  man.  At  any  rate,  if  I  have  been  something 
of  a  miser,  it  is  for  your  sake ;  for  your  sake  I  have  personally 
guarded  the  treasure  that  is  to  be  your  bridal  gift.  You  can 
not  blame  me  for  this?" 

In  answer  she  threw  her  fair  arms  round  my  neck  and  kissed 
me.  Strive  against  it  as  I  would,  I  always  shuddered  at  the 
touch  of  her  lips — a  mingled  sensation  of  loathing  and  longing 
possessed  me  that  sickened  while  it  stung  my  soul. 

"  Amor  mio  !  "  she  murmured.  "  As  if  /  could  blame  you ! 
You  have  no  faults  in  my  estimation  of  you.  You  are  good, 
brave  and  generous — the  best  of  men ;  there  is  only  one  thing 
I  wish  sometimes — "  Here  she  paused,  and  her  brow  knitted 
itself  frowningly,  while  a  puzzled,  pained  expression  came 
into  her  eyes. 

"  And  that  one  thing  is?"  I  inquired. 

"  That  you  did  not  remind  me  so  often  of  Fabio,"  she  said, 
abruptly  and  half  angrily.  "  Not  when  you  speak  of  him,  I  do 
not  mean  that.  What  I  mean  is,  that  you  have  ways  like  his. 
Of  course  I  know  there  is  no  actual  resemblance,  and  yet — " 
She  paused  again,  and  again  looked  troubled. 

"  Really,  carina  mia,"  I  remarked,  lightly  and  jestingly,  "  you 
embarrass  me  profoundly!  This  fancy  of  yours  is  a  most 
awkward  one  for  me.  At  the  convent  where  I  visited  you, 
you  became  quite  ill  at  the  contemplation  of  my  hand  which 
you  declared  was  like  the  hand  of  your  deceased  husband;  and 
now — this  same  foolish  idea  is  returning,  when  I  hoped  it  had 
gone,  with  other  morbid  notions  of  an  oversensitive  brain, 
forever.     Perhaps  you  think  I  am  your  late  husband?" 

And  I  laughed  aloud!  She  trembled  a  little,  but  soon 
laughed  also. 

"  I  know  I  am  very  absurd,"  she  said;  "  perhaps  I  am  a  little 
nervous  and  unstrung ;  I  have  had  too  much  excitement  lately. 


vendetta!  295 

Tell  me  more  about  the  jewels.     When  will  you  take  me  to 
see  them?" 

•'  To-morrow  night,"  I  answered,  "  while  the  ball  is  going 
on,  you  and  I  will  slip  away  together— we  shall  return  again 
before  any  of  our  friends  can  miss  us.  You  will  come  with 
me?" 

"  Of  course  I  will,"  she  replied,  readily,  "  only  we  must  not 
be  long  absent,  because  my  maid  will  have  to  pack  my  wed- 
ding-dress, and  then  theie  will  be  the  jewels  also  to  put  in  my 
strong  box.  Let  me  see !  We  stay  the  night  at  the  hotel,  and 
leave  for  Rome  and  Paris  the  first  thing  in  the  morning,  do 
we  not?" 

"  That  is  the  arrangement,  certainly,"  I  said,  with  a  cold 
smile. 

"  The  little  place  where  you  have  hidden  your  jewels,  you 
droll  Cesare,  is  quite  near  then?"  she  asked. 

"  Quite  near,"  I  assented,  watching  her  closely. 

She  laughed  and  clapped  her  hands. 

"  Oh,  I  must  have  them,"  she  exclaimed.  "It  would  be 
ridiculous  to  go  to  Paris  without  them.  But  why  will  you  not 
get  them  yourself,  Cesare,  and  bring  them  here  to  me?" 

"There  are  so  many,"  I  returned,  quietly,  "and  I  do  not 
know  which  you  would  prefer.  Some  are  more  valuable  than 
others.  And  it  will  give  me  a  special  satisfaction — one  that  I 
have  long  waited  for — to  see  you  making  your  own  choice." 

She  smiled  half  shyly,  half  cunningly. 

"  Perhaps  I  will  make  no  choice,"  she  whispered,  "perhaps 
I  will  take  them  all,  Cesare.     What  will  you  say  then?" 

"  That  you  are  perfectly  welcome  to  them,"  I  replied. 

She  looked  slightly  surprised. 

"You  are  really  too  good  to  me,  caro  mio,"  she  said;  "you 
spoil  me." 

"  Can  you  be  spoiled?"  I  asked,  half  jestingly.  "  Good  wo- 
men are  like  fine  brilliants — the  more  richly  they  are  set  the 
more  they  shine." 

She  stroked  my  hand  caressingly. 

"  No  one  ever  made  such  pretty  speeches  to  me  as  you  do!" 
she  murmured. 

"  Not  even  Guido  Ferrari?"  I  suggested,  ironically.  She 
drew  herself  up  with  an  inimitably  well-acted  gesture  of  lofty 
disdain. 

"  Guido  Ferrari !"  she  exclaimed.     "  He  dared  not  address 


296  vendetta! 

me  save  with  the  greatest  respect!  I  was  as  a  queen  to  him! 
It  was  only  lately  that  he  began  to  presume  on  the  trust  left 
him  by  my  husband,  and  then  he  became  too  familiar — a  mis- 
take on  his  part,  for  which _>v«  punished  him — as  he  deserved!" 

I  rose  from  my  seat  beside  her.  I  could  not  answer  for  my 
own  composure  while  sitting  so  close  to  the  actual  murderess 
of  my  friend  and  her  lover.  Had  she  forgotten  her  own 
"  familiar"  treatment  of  the  dead  man — the  thousand  nameless 
wiles  and  witcheries  and  tricks  of  her  trade,  by  which  she  had 
beguiled  his  soul  and  ruined  his  honor? 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  satisfied  with  my  action  in  that  affair," 
I  said,  coldly  and  steadily.  "  I  myself  regret  the  death  of  the 
unfortunate  young  man,  and  shall  continue  to  do  so.  My 
nature,  unhappily,  is  an  oversensitive  one,  and  is  apt  to  be 
affected  by  trifles.  But  now,  viia  bella,  farewell  until  to-mor- 
row— happy  to-morrow ! — when  I  shall  call  you  mine  indeed !" 

A  warm  flush  tinted  her  cheeks ;  she  came  to  me  where  I 
stood,  and  leaned  against  me. 

"  Shall  I  not  see  you  again  till  we  meet  in  the  church?"  she 
inquired,  with  a  becoming  bashfulness. 

"  No.  I  will  leave  you  this  last  day  of  your  brief  widow- 
hood alone.  It  is  not  well  that  I  should  obtrude  myself  upon 
your  thoughts  or  prayers.  Stay !"  and  I  caught  her  hand  and 
toyed  with  the  flower  in  my  button-hole.  "  I  see  you  still 
wear  your  former  wedding-ring.     May  I  take  it  off?" 

"Certainly."  And  she  smiled  while  I  deftly  drew  off  the 
plain  gold  circlet  I  had  placed  there  nearly  four  years  since. 

"  Will  you  let  me  keep  it?" 

"  If  you  like,     /would  rather  not  see  it  again." 

"  You  shall  not,"  I  answered,  as  I  slipped  it  into  my  pocket. 
"  It  will  be  replaced  by  a  new  one  to-morrow — one  that  I  hope 
may  be  the  symbol  of  more  joy  to  you  than  this  has  been." 

And  as  her  eyes  turned  to  my  face  in  all  their  melting,  per- 
fidious languor,  I  conquered  my  hatred  of  her  by  a  strong 
effort,  and  stooped  and  kissed  her.  Had  I  yielded  to  my  real 
impulses,  I  would  have  crushed  her  cruelly  in  my  arms,  and 
bruised  her  delicate  flesh  with  the  brutal  ferocity  of  caresses 
born  of  bitterest  loathing,  not  love.  But  no  sign  of  my  aver- 
sion escaped  me — all  she  saw  was  her  elderly  looking  admirer, 
with  his  calmly  courteous  demeanor,  chill  smile,  and  almost 
parental  tenderness;  and  she  judged  him  merely  as  an  influ- 
ential gentleman  of  good  position  and  unlimited  income,  who 


vendetta!  297 

was  about  to  make  her  one  of  the  most  envied  women  in  all 
Italy. 

The  fugitive  resemblance  she  traced  in  me  to  her  "  dead" 
husband  was  certainly  attributed  by  her  to  a  purely  accidental 
likeness  common  to  many  persons  in  this  world,  where  every 
man,  they  say,  has  his  double,  and  for  that  matter  every 
woman  also. 

Who  does  not  remember  the  touching  surprise  of  Heinrich 
Heine  when,  on  visiting  the  picture-gallery  of  the  Palazzo 
Durazzo  in  Genoa,  he  was  brought  face  to  face  with  the  por- 
trait, as  he  thought,  of  a  dead  woman  he  had  loved — "  Maria 
la  morte"?  It  mattered  not  to  him  that  the  picture  was  very 
old,  that  it  had  been  painted  by  Giorgio  Barbarelli  centuries 
before  his  "Maria"  could  have  lived;  he  simply  declares:  " // 
est  vraiment  d'une  ressembliDice  admirable,  ressemblant  jusqu' au 
silence  de  la  mort !" 

Such  likenesses  are  common  enough,  and  my  wife,  though 
my  resemblance  to  myself  (!)  troubled  her  a  little,  was  very 
far  from  imagining  the  real  truth  of  the  matter,  as  indeed  how 
should  she?  What  woman,  believing  and  knowing,  as  far  as 
anything  can  be  known,  her  husband  to  be  dead  and  fast  bur- 
ied, is  likely  to  accept  even  the  idea  of  his  possible  escape 
from  the  tomb!  Not  one! — else  the  disconsolate  widows 
would  indeed  have  reason  to  be  more  inconsolable  than  they 
appear! 

When  I  left  her  that  morning  I  found  Andrea  Luziani  wait- 
ing for  me  at  my  hotel.  He  was  seated  in  the  outer  entrance 
hall;  I  bade  him  follow  me  into  my  private  salon.  He  did  so. 
Abashed  at  the  magnificence  of  the  apartment,  he  paused  at 
the  doorway,  and  stood,  red  cap  in  hand,  hesitating,  though 
with  an  amiable  smile  on  his  sunburned  merry  countenance. 

"  Come  in,  amico"  I  said,  with  an  inviting  gesture,  "  and  sit 
down.  All  this  tawdry  show  of  velvet  and  gilding  must  seem 
common  to  your  eyes,  that  have  rested  so  long  on  the  spark- 
ling pomp  of  the  foaming  waves,  the  glorious  blue  curtain  of 
the  sky,  and  the  sheeny  white  of  the  sails  of  the  'Laura' 
gleaming  in  the  gold  of  the  sun.  Would  I  could  live  such  a 
life  as  yours,  Andrea! — there  is  nothing  better  under  the 
width  of  heaven." 

The  poetical  temperament  of  the  Sicilian  was  caught  and 
fired  by  my  words.  He  at  once  forgot  the  splendid  appurte- 
nances of  wealth  and  the  costly  luxuries  that  surrounded  him; 


298  vendetta!  ' 

he  advanced  without  embarrassment  and  seated  himself  on  a 
velvet  and  gold  chair  with  as  much  ease  as  though  it  were  a 
coil  of  rough  rope  on  board  the  "  Laura." 

"You  say  truly,  eccellenza,"  he  said,  with  a  gleam  of  his 
white  teeth  through  his  jet-black  mustache,  while  his  warm 
southern  eyes  flashed  fire,  "  there  is  nothing  sweeter  than  the 
life  of  the  marmaro.  And  truly  there  are  many  who  say  to 
me,  'Ah,  ah!  Andrea!  buon  amico,  the  time  comes  when  you 
will  wed,  and  the  home  where  the  wife  and  children  sit  will 
seem  a  better  thing  to  you  than  the  caprice  of  the  wind  and 
waves. '  But  I — see  you ! — I  know  othsrwise.  The  woman  I 
wed  must  love  the  sea;  she  must  have  the  fearless  eyes  that 
can  look  God's  storms  in  the  face — her  tender  words  must  ring 
out  all  the  more  clearly  for  the  sound  of  the  bubbling  waves 
leaping  against  the  'Laura'  when  the  wind  is  high!  And  as 
for  our  children,"  he  paused  and  laughed,  "per  la  Santissima 
Madonna  !  if  the  salt  and  iron  of  the  ocean  be  not  in  their 
blood,  they  will  be  no  children  of  mine!" 

I  smiled  at  his  enthusiasm,  and  pouring  out  some  choice 
Montepulciano,  bade  him  taste  it.  He  did  so  with  a  keen 
appreciation  of  its  flavor,  such  as  many  a  so-called  connoisseur 
of  wines  does  not  possess. 

"To  your  health,  eccellenza!"  he  said;  "and  may  you  long 
enjoy  your  life !" 

I  thanked  him ;  but  in  my  heart  I  was  far  from  echoing  the 
kindly  wish. 

"  And  are  you  going  to  fulfill  the  prophecy  of  your  friends, 
Andrea?"  I  asked.     "  Are  you  about  to  marry?" 

He  set  down  his  glass  only  partly  emptied,  and  smiled  with 
an  air  of  mystery. 

"  Ebbetie  !  chi  sa  !  "  he  replied,  with  a  gay  little  shrug  of  his 
shoulders,  yet  with  a  sudden  tenderness  in  his  keen  eyes  that 
did  not  escape  me.  "  There  is  a  maiden — my  mother  loves 
her  well — she  is  little  and  fair  as  Carmelo  Neri's  Teresa — so 
high,"  and  he  laid  his  brown  hand  lightly  on  his  breast,  "her 
head  touches  just  here,"  and  he  laughed.  "  She  looks  as  frail 
as  a  lily,  but  she  is  hardy  as  a  sea-gull,  and  no  one  loves  the 
wild  waves  more  than  she.  Perhaps,  in  the  month  of  the 
Madonna,  when  the  white  lilies  bloom — perhaps! — one  can 
never  tell — the  old  song  may  be  sung  for  us — 

'^'  Chi  safervente  amar 
Solo  tfelice  !  "  \ 


vendetta!  299 

And  humming  the  tune  of  the  well-known  love-ditty  under 
his  breath,  he  raised  his  glass  of  wine  to  his  lips  and  drained 
it  off  with  a  relish,  while  his  honest  face  beamed  with  gayety 
and  pleasure.  Always  the  same  story,  I  thought,  moodily. 
Love,  the  tempter — Love,  the  destroyer — Love,  the  curse ! 
Was  there  no  escape  possible  from  this  bewildering  snare  that 
thus  caught  and  slew  the  souls  of  men? 


CHAPTER  XXXIIL 

He  soon  roused  himself  from  his  pleasant  reverie,  and  draw- 
ing his  chair  closer  to  mine,  assumed  an  air  of  mystery. 

"  And  for  your  friend  who  is  in  trouble,"  he  said,  in  a  confi- 
dential tone,  then  paused  and  looked  at  me  as  though  waiting 
permission  to  proceed. 

I  nodded. 

"  Go  on,  atnico.     What  have  you  arranged?" 

"  Everything !"  he  announced,  with  an  air  of  triumph.  "  All 
is  smooth  sailing.  At  six  o'clock  on  Friday  morning  the 
'Rondinella, '  that  is  the  brig  I  told  you  of,  eccellenza,  will 
weigh  anchor  for  Civita  Vecchia.  Her  captain,  old  Antonio 
Bardi,  will  wait  ten  minutes  or  even  a  quarter  of  an  hour  if 
necessary  for  the — the — " 

"  Passenger,"  I  supplemented.  "  Very  amiable  of  him,  but 
he  will  not  need  to  delay  his  departure  for  a  single  instant  be- 
yond the  appointed  hour.  Is  he  satisfied  with  the  passage 
money?" 

"  Satisfied !"  and  Andrea  swore  a  good-natured  oath  and 
laughed  aloud.  "  By  San  Pietro !  if  he  were  not,  he  would 
deserve  to  drown  like  a  dog  on  the  voyage !  Though  truly, 
it  is  always  difficult  to  please  him,  he  being  old  and  cross  and 
crusty.  Yes ;  he  is  one  of  those  men  who  have  seen  so  much 
of  life  that  they  are  tired  of  it.  Believe  it !  even  the  stormiest 
sea  is  a  tame  fish-pond  to  old  Bardi.  But  he  is  satisfied  this 
time,  eccellenza,  and  his  tongue  and  eyes  are  so  tied  up  that 
I  should  not  wonder  if  your  friend  found  him  to  be  both  dumb 
and  blind  when  he  steps  on  board." 

"  That  is  well,"  I  said,  smiling.  "  I  owe  you  many  thanks, 
Andrea.  And  yet  there  is  one  more  favor  I  would  ask  of 
you." 


300  vendetta! 

He  saluted  me  with  a  light  yet  graceful  gesture. 

"  Eccellenza,  anything  I  can  do — command  me." 

"It  is  a  mere  trifle,"  I  returned.  "It  is  merely  to  take  a 
small  valise  belonging  to  my  friend,  and  to  place  it  on  board 
the  'Rondinella'  under  the  care  of  the  captain.  Will  you  do 
this?" 

"  Most  willingly.     I  will  take  it  now  if  it  so  please  you." 

"  That  is  what  I  desire.  Wait  here  and  I  will  bring  it  to 
you," 

And  leaving  him  for  a  minute  or  two,  I  went  into  my  bed- 
room and  took  from  a  cupboard  I  always  kept  locked  a  com- 
mon rough  leather  bag,  which  I  had  secretly  packed  myself, 
unknown  to  Vincenzo,  with  such  things  as  I  judged  to  be 
useful  and  necessary.  Chief  among  them  was  a  bulky  roll  of 
bank-notes.  These  amounted  to  nearly  the  whole  of  the  re- 
mainder of  the  money  I  had  placed  in  the  bank  at  Palermo.  I 
had  withdrawn  it  by  gradual  degrees,  leaving  behind  only  a 
couple  of  thousand  francs,  for  which  I  had  no  special  need.  I 
locked  and  strapped  the  valise;  there  was  no  name  on  it,  and 
it  was  scarcely  any  weight  to  carry.  I  took  it  to  Andrea,  who 
swung  it  easily  in  his  right  hand  and  said,  smilingly: 

"  Your  friend  is  not  wealthy,  eccellenza,  if  this  is  all  his 
luggage !" 

"  You  are  right,"  I  answered,  with  a  slight  sigh;  "  he  is  truly 
very  poor — beggared  of  everything  that  should  be  his  through 
the  treachery  of  those  whom  he  has  benefited."  I  paused; 
Andrea  was  listening  sympathetically,  "  That  is  why  I  have 
paid  his  passage-money,  and  have  done  my  best  to  aid  him." 

"Ah!  you  have  the  good  heart,  eccellenza,"  murmured  the 
Sicilian,  thoughtfully.  "Would  there  were  more  like  you! 
Often  when  fortune  gives  a  kick  to  a  man,  nothing  will  suit , 
but  that  all  who  see  him  must  kick  him  also.  And  thus  the 
povero  diavolo  dies  of  so  many  kicks,  often!  This  friend  of 
yours  is  young,  senza  dubbioV 

"Yes,  quite  young,  not  yet  thirty." 

"  It  is  as  if  you  were  a  father  to  him !"  exclaimed  Andrea, 
enthusiastically.  "  I  hope  he  may  be  truly  grateful  to  you, 
eccellenza." 

"  I  hope  so  too,"  I  said,  unable  to  resist  a  smile.  "  And  now, 
amico,  take  this,"  and  I  pressed  a  small  sealed  packet  into  his 
hand.  "  It  is  for  yourself.  Do  not  open  it  till  you  are  at 
home  with  the  mother  you  love  so  well,  and  the  little  maiden 


vendetta!  301 

you  spoke  of  by  your  side.  If  its  contents  please  you,  as  I 
believe  they  will,  think  that  /  am  also  rendered  happier  by 
your  happiness." 

His  dark  eyes  sparkled  with  gratitude  as  I  spoke,  and  set- 
ting the  valise  he  held  down  on  the  ground,  he  stretched  out 
his  hand  half  timidly,  half  frankly.  I  shook  it  warmly  and 
bade  him  farewell. 

"  Per  Bacco  !  "  he  said,  with  a  sort  of  shamefaced  eagerness, 
"  the  very  devil  must  have  caught  my  tongue  in  his  fingers! 
There  is  something  I  ought  to  say  to  you,  eccellenza,  but  for 
my  life  I  cannot  find  the  right  words.  I  must  thank  you  bet- 
ter when  I  see  you  next." 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  dreamily  and  somewhat  wearily,  "  when 
you  see  me  next,  Andrea,  you  shall  thank  me  if  you  will;  but 
believe  me,  I  need  no  thanks. 

And  thus  we  parted,  never  to  meet  again — he  to  the  strong 
glad  life  that  is  born  of  the  wind  and  sea,  and  I  to —  But  let 
me  not  anticipate.  Step  by  step  through  the  labyrinths  of 
memory  let  me  go  over  the  old  ground,  watered  with  blood 
and  tears,  not  missing  one  sharp  stone  of  detail  on  the  drear 
pathway  leading  to  the  bitter  end. 

That  same  evening  I  had  an  interview  with  Vincenzo.  He 
was  melancholy  and  taciturn — a  mood  which  was  the  result 
of  an  announcement  I  had  previously  made  to  him — namely, 
that  his  services  would  not  be  required  during  my  wedding- 
trip.  He  had  hoped  to  accompany  me  and  to  occupy  the 
position  of  courier,  valet,  major-domo,  and  generally  confi- 
dential attendant — a  hope  which  had  partially  soothed  the 
vexation  he  had  evidently  felt  at  the  notion  of  my  marrying 
[  at  all. 

His  plans  were  now  frustrated,  and  if  ever  the  good-natured 
fellow  could  be  ill-tempered,  he  was  assuredly  so  on  this 
occasion.  He  stood  before  me  with  his  usual  respectful  air, 
but  he  avoided  my  glance,  and  kept  his  eyes  studiously  fixed 
on  the  pattern  of  the  carpet.  I  addressed  him  with  an  air  of 
gayety. 

"  Ebbene,  Vincenzo !  Joy  comes  at  last,  you  see,  even  to 
me!  To-morrow  I  shall  wed  the  Countess  Romani — the  love- 
liest and  perhaps  the  richest  woman  in  Naples !" 

"  I  know  it,  eccellenza." 

This  with  the  same  obstinately  fixed  countenance  and  down- 
ward look. 


302  vendetta! 

"  You  are  not  very  pleased,  I  think,  at  the  prospect  of  my 
happiness?"  I  asked,  banteringly. 

He  glanced  up  for  an  instant,  then  as  quickly  down  again. 

"  If  one  could  be  sure  that  the  illustrissimo  eccellenza  was 
indeed  happy,  that  would  be  a  good  thing,"  he  answered, 
dubiously. 

"  And  are  you  not  sure?" 

He  paused,  then  replied  firmly: 

"  No ;  the  eccellenza  does  not  look  happy.  No,  no,  davvero  ! 
He  has  the  air  of  being  sorrowful  and  ill,  both  together." 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders  indifferently. 

"  You  mistake  me,  Vincenzo.  I  am  well — very  well — and 
happy  !  Gran  Dio  !  who  could  be  happier?  But  what  of  my 
health  or  happiness? — they  are  nothing  to  me,  and  should  be 
less  to  you.  Listen !  I  have  something  I  wish  you  to  do  for 
me." 

He  gave  me  a  sidelong  and  half-expectant  glance.  I  went 
on: 

"  To-morrow  evening  I  want  you  to  go  to  Avellino." 

He  was  utterly  astonished. 

"  To  Avellino !"  he  murmured  under  his  breath,  "  to 
Avellino !" 

"  Yes,  to  Avellino,"  I  repeated,  somewhat  impatiently.  "  Is 
there  anything  so  surprising  in  that?  You  will  take  a  letter 
for  me  to  the  Signora  Monti.  Look  you,  Vincenzo,  you  have 
been  faithful  and  obedient  so  far,  I  expect  implicit  fidelity  and 
obedience  still.  You  will  not  be  needed  here  to-morrow  after 
the  marriage  ball  has  once  begun;  you  can  take  the  nine 
o'clock  train  to  Avellino,  and — understand  me — you  will  re- 
main there  till  you  receive  further  news  from  me.  You  will 
not  have  to  wait  long,  and  in  the  mean  time,"  here  I  smiled, 
"  you  can  make  love  to  Lilla." 

Vincenzo  did  not  return  the  smile. 

"But — but,"  he  stammered,  sorely  perplexed — "if  I  go  to 
Avellino  I  can  not  wait  upon  the  eccellenza.  There  is  the 
portmanteau  to  pack — and  who  will  see  to  the  luggage  when 
you  leave  on  Friday  morning  for  Rome?  And — and — I  had 
thought  to  see  you  to  the  station — "  He  stopped,  his  vexation 
was  too  great  to  allow  him  to  proceed. 

I  laughed  gently. 

"  How  many  more  trifles  can  you  think  of,  my  friend,  in 
opposition  to  my  wishes?    As  for  the  portmanteau,  you  can 


VENDETTA ! 


303 


pack  it  this  very  day  if  you  so  please — then  it  will  be  in  readi- 
ness. The  rest  of  your  duties  can  for  once  be  performed  by 
others.  It  is  not  only  important,  but  imperative  that  you 
should  go  to  Avellino  on  my  errand.  I  want  you  to  take  this 
with  you,"  and  I  tapped  a  small  square  iron  box,  heavily  made 
and  strongly  padlocked,  which  stood  on  the  table  near  me. 

He  glanced  at  the  box,  but  still  hesitated,  and  the  gloom  on 
his  countenance  deepened.     I  grew  a  little  annoyed. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you?"  I  said  at  last  with  some 
sternness.  "You  have  something  on  your  mind  —  speak 
out!" 

The  fear  of  my  wrath  startled  him.  He  looked  up  with  a 
bewildered  pain  in  his  eyes,  and  spoke,  his  mellow  Tuscan 
voice  vibrating  with  his  own  eloquent  entreaty. 

"  Eccellenza!"  he  exclaimed,  eagerly,  "  you  must  forgive  me 
— yes,  forgive  your  poor  servant  who  seems  too  bold,  and  who 
yet  is  true  to  you — yes,  indeed,  so  true — and  who  would  go 
with  you  to  death  if  there  were  need!  I  am  not  blind,  I  can 
see  your  sufferings,  for  you  do  suffer,  ' lustrissimo,  though  you 
hide  it  well.  Often  have  I  watched  you  when  you  have  not 
known  it.  I  feel  that  you  have  what  we  call  a  wound  in  the 
heart,  bleeding,  bleeding  always.  Such  a  thing  means  death 
often,  as  much  as  a  straight  shot  in  battle.  Let  me  watch 
over  you,  eccellenza;  let  me  stay  with  you!  I  have  learned 
to  love  you!  Ah,  inio  signor,"  and  he  drew  nearer  and  caught 
my  hand  timidly,  "  you  do  not  know — how  should  you? — the 
look  that  is  in  your  face  sometimes,  the  look  of  one  who  is 
stunned  by  a  hard  blow.  I  have  said  to  myself,  'That  look 
will  kill  me  if  I  see  it  often. '  And  your  love  for  this  great 
lady,  whom  you  will  wed  to-morrow,  has  not  lightened  your 
soul  as  love  should  lighten  it.  No !  you  are  even  sadder  than 
before,  and  the  look  I  speak  of  comes  ever  again  and  again. 
Yes,  I  have  watched  you,  and  lately  I  have  seen  you  writing, 
writing  far  into  the  night,  when  you  should  have  slept.  Ah, 
signor!  you  are  angry,  and  I  know  I  should  not  have  spoken; 
but  tell  me,  how  can  I  look  at  Lilla  and  be  happy  when  I  feel 
that  you  are  alone  and  sad?" 

I  stopped  the  flood  of  his  eloquence  by  a  mute  gesture  and 
withdrew  my  hand  from  his  clasp. 

"I  am  not  angry,"  I  said,  with  quiet  steadiness,  and  yet 
wrth  something  of  coldness,  though  my  whole  nature,  always 
highly  sensitive,  was  deeply  stirred  by  the  rapid,  unstudied 


304  vendetta! 

expressions  of  affection  that  melted  so  warmly  from  his  lips 
in  the  liquid  music  of  the  mellow  Tuscan  tongue.  "  No,  I  am 
not  angry,  but  I  am  sorry  to  have  been  the  object  of  so  much 
solicitude  on  your  part.  Your  pity  is  misplaced,  Vincenzo,  it 
is  indeed!  Pity  an  emperor  clad  in  purple  and  seated  on  a 
throne  of  pure  gold,  but  do  not  pity  77ie !  I  tell  you  that,  to- 
morrow, yes,  to-morrow,  I  shall  obtain  all  that  I  have  ever 
sought — my  greatest  desire  will  be  fulfilled.  Believe  it.  No 
man  has  ever  been  so  thoroughly  satiated  with — satisfaction 
—as  I  shall  be  !" 

Then  seeing  him  look  still  sad  and  incredulous,  I  clapped 
my  hand  on  his  shoulder  and  smiled. 

"  Come,  come,  atnico,  wear  a  merrier  face  for  my  bridal  day, 
or  you  will  not  deserve  to  wed  Lilla.  I  thank  you  from  my 
heart,"  and  I  spoke  more  gravely,  "  for  your  well-meant  care 
and  kindness,  but  I  assure  you  there  is  nothing  wrong  with 
me.  I  am  well — perfectly  well — and  happy.  It  is  understood 
that  you  go  to  Avellino  to-morrow  evening?" 

Vincenzo  sighed,  but  was  passive. 

"  It  must  be  as  the  eccellenza  pleases,"  he  murmured, 
resignedly. 

"That  is  well,"  I  answered,  good-humoredly;  "and  as  you 
know  my  pleasure,  take  care  that  nothing  interferes  with  your 
departure.  And — one  word  more — you  must  cease  to  watch 
me.  Plainly  speaking,  I  do  not  choose  to  be  under  your  sur- 
veillance. Nay — I  am  not  offended,  far  from  it,  fidelity  and 
devotion  are  excellent  virtues,  but  in  the  present  case  I  prefer 
obedience — strict,  implicit  obedience.  Whatever  I  may  do, 
whether  I  sleep  or  wake,  walk  or  sit  still — attend  to  your  duties 
and  pay  no  heed  to  7>iy  actions.  So  will  you  best  serve  me — 
you  understand?" 

"  Si,  signor !"  and  the  poor  fellow  sighed  again,  and  red- 
dened with  his  own  inward  confusion.  "  You  will  pardon  me, 
eccellenza,  for  my  freedom  of  speech?  I  feel  I  have  done 
wrong — " 

"  I  pardon  you  for  what  in  this  world  is  never  pardoned — 
excess  of  love,"  I  answered,  gently.  "  Knowing  you  love  me, 
I  ask  you  to  obey  me  in  my  present  wishes,  and  thus  we  shall 
always  be  friends." 

His  face  brightened  at  these  last  words,  and  his  thoughts 
turned  in  a  new  direction.  He  glanced  at  the  iron  box  I  had 
before  pointed  out  to  him. 


vendetta!  305 

"  That  is  to  go  to  Avellino,  eccellenza?"  he  asked,  with  more 
alacrity  than  he  had  yet  shown. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered.  "  You  will  place  it  in  the  hands  of  the 
good  Signora  Monti,  for  whom  I  have  a  great  respect.  She 
will  take  care  of  it  till — I  return." 

"  Your  commands  shall  be  obeyed,  signor,"he  said,  rapidly, 
as  though  eager  to  atone  for  his  past  hesitation.  "  After  all," 
and  he  smiled,  "  it  will  be  pleasant  to  see  Lilla;  she  will  be 
interested,  too,  to  hear  the  account  of  the  eccellenza's 
marriage." 

And  somewhat  consoled  by  the  prospect  of  the  entertain- 
ment his  unlooked-for  visit  would  give  to  the  charming  little 
maiden  of  his  choice,  he  left  me,  and  shortly  afterward  I  heard 
him  humming  a  popular  love-song  softly  under  his  breath, 
while  he  busied  himself  in  packing  my  portmanteau  for  the 
honeymoon  trip — a  portmanteau  destined  never  to  be  used  or 
opened  by  its  owner. 

That  night,  contrary  to  my  usual  habit,  I  lingered  long  over 
my  dinner;  at  its  close  I  poured  out  a  full  glass  of  fine  La- 
crima  Cristi,  and  secretly  mixing  with  it  a  dose  of  a  tasteless 
but  powerful  opiate,  I  called  my  valet  and  bade  him  drink  it 
and  wish  me  joy.  He  did  so  readily,  draining  the  contents  to 
the  last  drop.  It  was  a  tempestuous  night;  there  was  a  high 
wind,  broken  through  by  heavy  sweeping  gusts  of  rain.  Vin- 
cenzo  cleared  the  dinner-table,  yawning  visibly  as  he  did  so, 
then  taking  my  out-door  paletot  on  his  arm,  he  went  to  his 
bedroom,  a  small  one  adjoining  mine,  for  the  purpose  of  brush- 
ing it,  according  to  his  customary  method.  I  opened  a  book, 
and  pretending  to  be  absorbed  in  its  contents,  I  waited 
patiently  for  about  half  an  hour. 

At  the  expiration  of  that  time  I  stole  softly  to  his  door  and 
looked  in.  It  was  as  I  had  expected ;  overcome  by  the  sudden 
and  heavy  action  of  the  opiate,  he  had  thrown  himself  on  his 
bed,  and  was  slumbering  profoundly,  the  unbrushed  overcoat 
by  his  side.  Poor  fellow !  I  smiled  as  I  watched  him ;  the 
faithful  dog  was  chained,  and  could  not  follow  my  steps  for 
that  night  at  least. 

I  left  him  thus,  and  wrapping  myself  in  a  thick  Almaviva 
that  muffled  me  almost  to  the  eyes,  I  hurried  out,  fortunately 
meeting  no  one  on  my  way — out  into  the  storm  and  darkness, 
toward  the  Campo  Santo,  the  abode  of  the  all-wise  though 
speechless  dead.     I  had  work  to  do  there — work  that  must  be 


3o6  vendetta! 

done.  I  knew  that  if  I  had  not  taken  the  precaution  of  drug- 
ging my  too  devoted  servitor,  he  might,  despite  his  protesta- 
tions, have  been  tempted  to  track  me  whither  I  went.  As  it 
was,  I  felt  myself  safe,  for  four  hours  must  pass,  I  knew,  be- 
fore Vincenzo  could  awake  from  his  lethargy.  And  I  was 
absent  for  some  time. 

Though  I  performed  my  task  as  quickly  as  might  be,  it  took 
me  longer  than  I  thought,  and  filled  me  with  more  loathing 
and  reluctance  than  I  had  deemed  possible.  It  was  a  grew- 
some,  ghastly  piece  of  work — a  work  of  preparation — and 
when  I  had  finished  it  entirely  to  my  satisfaction,  I  felt  as 
though  the  bony  fingers  of  death  itself  had  been  plunged  into 
my  very  marrow.  I  shivered  with  cold,  my  limbs  could  scarce 
bear  me  upright,  and  my  teeth  chattered  as  though  I  were 
seized  by  strong  ague.  But  the  fixity  of  my  purpose  strength- 
ened me  till  all  was  done — till  the  stage  was  set  for  the  last 
scene  of  the  tragedy.  Or  comedy?  What  you  will!  I  know 
that  in  the  world  nowadays  you  make  a  husband's  dishonor 
more  of  a  whispered  jest  than  anything  else — you  and  )'our 
heavy  machinery  of  the  law.  But  to  me — I  am  so  strangely 
constituted — dishonor  is  a  bitterer  evil  than  death.  If  all 
those  who  are  deceived  and  betrayed  felt  thus,  then  justice 
would  need  to  become  more  just.  It  is  fortunate — for  the 
lawyers — that  we  are  not  all  honorable  men ! 

When  I  returned  from  my  dreary  walk  in  the  driving  storm 
I  found  Vincenzo  still  fast  asleep.  I  was  glad  of  this,  for  had 
he  seen  me  in  the  plight  I  was,  he  would  have  had  good 
reason  to  be  alarmed  concerning  both  my  physical  and  mental 
condition.  Perceiving  myself  in  the  glass,  I  recoiled  as  from 
an  image  of  horror.  I  saw  a  man  with  haunted,  hungry  eyes 
gleaming  out  from  under  a  mass  of  disordered  white  hair,  his 
pale,  haggard  face  set  and  stern  as  the  face  of  a  merciless  in- 
quisitor of  old  Spain,  his  dark  cloak  dripping  with  glittering 
rain- drops,  his  hands  and  nails  stained  as  though  he  had  dug 
them  into  the  black  earth,  his  boots  heavy  with  mire  and  clay, 
his  whole  aspect  that  of  one  who  had  been  engaged  in  some 
abhorrent  deed,  too  repulsive  to  be  named.  I  stared  at  my 
own  reflection  thus  and  shuddered ;  then  I  laughed  softly  with 
a  sort  of  fierce  enjoyment.  Quickly  I  threw  off  all  my  soiled 
habiliments,  and  locked  them  out  of  sight,  and  arraying  my- 
self in  dressing-gown  and  slippers,  I  glanced  at  the  time.  It 
was  half  past  one — already  the  morning  of  my  bridal.     I  had 


VENDETTA !  307 

been  absent  three  hours  and  a  half.  I  went  into  my  salon  and 
remained  there  writing.  A  few  minutes  after  two  o'clock  had 
struck  the  door  opened  noiselessly,  and  Vincenzo,  looking  still 
very  sleepy,  appeared  with  an  expression  of  inquiring  anxiety. 
He  smiled  drowsily,  and  seemed  relieved  to  see  me  sitting 
quietly  in  my  accustomed  place  at  the  writing-table.  I  sur- 
veyed him  with  an  air  of  affected  surprise. 

"  Ebbene,  Vincenzo !  What  has  become  of  you  all  this 
while?" 

"  Eccellenza,"  he  stammered,  "  it  was  the  Lacrimal  I  am  not 
used  to  wine!     I  have  been  asleep." 

I  laughed,  pretended  to  stifle  a  yawn  on  my  own  account, 
and  rose  from  my  easy-chair. 

"  Verametifc,"  I  said,  lightly,  "so  have  I,  very  nearly!  And 
if  I  would  appear  as  a  gay  bridegroom,  it  is  time  I  went  to 
bed.     Buona  notte." 

"  Buona  notte,  signor." 

And  we  severally  retired  to  rest,  he  satisfied  that  I  had  been 
in  my  own  room  all  the  evening,  and  I  thinking  with  a  savage 
joy  at  my  heart  of  what  I  had  prepared  out  there  in  the  dark- 
ness, with  no  witnesses  of  my  work  save  the  whirling  wind 
and  rain. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

Mv  marriage  morning  dawned  bright  and  clear,  though  the 
high  wind  of  the  past  night  still  prevailed  and  sent  the  white 
clouds  scudding  rapidly,  like  ships  running  a  race,  across  the 
blue  fairness  of  the  sky.  The  air  was  strong,  fresh,  and  ex- 
hilarating, and  the  crowds  that  swarmed  into  the  Piazza  del 
Popolo,  and  the  Toledo,  eager  to  begin  the  riot  and  fun  of 
Giovedi  Grasso,  were  one  and  all  in  the  highest  good  humor. 
As  the  hours  advanced,  many  little  knots  of  people  hurried 
toward  the  cathedral,  anxious  if  possible  to  secure  places  in 
or  near  the  Chapel  of  San  Gennaro.  in  order  to  see  to  advan- 
tage the  brilliant  costumes  of  the  few  distinguished  persons 
who  had  been  invited  to  witness  my  wedding.  The  ceremony 
was  fixed  to  take  place  at  eleven,  and  at  a  little  before  half 
past  ten  I  entered  my  carriage,  in  company  with  the  Duke  di 
Marina  as  best  man,  and  drove  to  the  scene  of  action.     Clad 


3o8  vendetta! 

in  garments  of  admirable  cut  and  fit,  with  well-brushed  ftair 
and  beard,  and  wearing  a  demeanor  of  skillfully  mingled 
gravity  and  gayety,  I  bore  but  little  resemblance  to  the  hag- 
gard, ferocious  creature  who  had  faced  me  in  the  mirror  a  few 
hours  previously. 

A  strange  and  secret  mirth  too  possessed  me,  a  sort  of  half- 
frenzied  merriment  that  threatened  every  now  and  then  to 
break  through  the  mask  of  dignified  composure  it  was  neces- 
sary for  me  to  wear.  There  were  moments  when  I  could  have 
laughed,  shrieked,  and  sung  with  the  fury  of  a  drunken  mad- 
man. As  it  was,  I  talked  incessantly ;  my  conversation  was 
flavored  with  bitter  wit  and  pungent  sarcasm,  and  once  or 
twice  my  friend  the  duke  surveyed  me  with  an  air  of  wonder- 
ing inquiry,  as  though  he  thought  my  manner  forced  or  un- 
natural. My  coachman  was  compelled  to  drive  rather  slowly, 
owing  to  the  pressing  throngs  that  swarmed  at  every  corner 
and  through  every  thoroughfare,  while  the  yells  of  the  mas- 
queraders,  the  gambols  of  street  clowns,  the  firing  of  toy  guns, 
and  the  sharp  explosion  of  colored  bladders,  that  were  swung 
to  and  fro  and  tossed  in  the  air  by  the  merry  populace,  startled 
my  spirited  horses  frequently,  and  caused  them  to  leap  and 
prance  to  a  somewhat  dangerous  extent,  thus  attracting  more 
than  the  customary  attention  to  my  equipage.  As  it  drew  up 
at  last  at  the  door  of  the  chapel,  I  was  surprised  to  see  what  a 
number  of  spectators  had  collected  there.  There  was  a  posi- 
tive crowd  of  loungers,  beggars,  children,  and  middle-class 
persons  of  all  sorts,  who  beheld  my  arrival  with  the  utmost 
interest  and  excitement. 

In  accordance  with  my  instructions  a  rich  crimson  carpet 
had  been  laid  down  from  the  very  edge  of  the  pavement  right 
into  the  church  as  far  as  the  altar;  a  silken  awning  had  also 
been  erected,  under  which  bloomed  a  miniature  avenue  of 
palms  and  tropical  flowers.  All  eyes  were  turned  upon  me 
curiously  as  I  stepped  from  my  carriage  and  entered  the 
chapel,  side  by  side  with  the  duke,  and  murmurs  of  my  vast 
wealth  and  generosity  were  audibly  whispered  as  I  passed 
along.  One  old  crone,  hideously  ugly,  but  with  large,  dark 
piercing  eyes,  the  fading  lamps  of  a  lost  beauty,  chuckled  and 
mumbled  as  she  craned  her  skinny  throat  forward  to  observe 
me  more  closely.  "  Ay,  ay !  The  saints  know  he  need  be  rich 
and  generous — poveruomo  to  fill  her  mouth.  A  little  red  cruel 
mouth  always  open,  that  swallows  money  like  macaroni,  and 


vendetta!  309 

laughs  at  the  sufTennpf  poor!  Ah!  that  is  bad,  bad!  He  need 
be  rich  to  satisfy  her  !" 

The  Duke  di  Marina  caught  these  words  and  glanced  quickly 
at  me,  but  I  affected  not  to  have  heard.  Inside  the  chapel 
there  were  a  great  number  of  people,  but  my  own  invited 
guests,  not  numbering  more  than  twenty  or  thirty,  were 
seated  in  the  space  apportioned  to  them  near  the  altar,  which 
was  divided  from  the  mere  sight-seers  by  means  of  a  silken 
rope  that  crossed  the  aisle.  I  exchanged  greetings  with  most 
of  these  persons,  and  in  return  received  their  congratulations; 
then  I  walked  with  a  firm  deliberate  step  up  to  the  high  altar 
and  there  waited.  The  magnificent  paintings  on  the  wall 
round  me  seemed  endowed  with  mysterious  life — the  grand 
heads  of  saints  and  martyrs  were  turned  upon  me  as  though 
they  demanded — "  Must  thou  do  this  thing?  Hast  thou  no 
forgiveness?" 

And  ever  my  stern  answer,  "  Nay ;  if  hereafter  I  am  tortured 
in  eternal  flame  for  all  ages,  yet  now — now  while  I  live,  I  will 
be  avenged!" 

A  bleeding  Christ  suspended  on  His  cross  gazed  at  me  re- 
proachfully with  long-enduring  eyes  of  deathful  anguish — 
eyes  that  seemed  to  say,  "  Oh,  erring  man,  that  tormentest 
thyself  with  passing  passions,  shall  not  thine  own  end  approach 
speedily? — and  what  comfort  wilt  thou  have  in  thy  last  hour?" 

And  inwardly  I  answered,  "  None !  No  shred  of  consolation 
can  ever  again  be  mine — no  joy,  save  fulfilled  revenge!  And 
this  I  will  possess  though  the  heavens  should  crack  and  the 
earth  split  asunder!  For  once  a  woman's  treachery  shall  meet 
with  punishment — for  once  such  strange  uncommon  justice 
shall  be  done !" 

And  my  spirit  wrapped  itself  again  in  somber  meditative 
silence.  The  sunlight  fell  gloriously  through  the  stained 
windows — blue,  gold,  crimson,  and  violet  shafts  of  dazzling 
radiance  glittered  in  lustrous  flickering  patterns  on  the  snowy 
whiteness  of  the  marble  altar,  and  slowly,  softly,  majestically, 
as  though  an  angel  stepped  forward,  the  sound  of  music  stole 
on  the  incense-laden  air.  The  unseen  organist  played  a 
sublime  voluntary  of  Palestrina's,  and  the  round  harmonious 
notes  came  falling  gently  on  one  another  like  drops  from  a 
fountain  trickling  on  flowers. 

I  thought  of  my  last  wedding-day,  when  I  had  stood  in  this 
very  place,  full  of  hope,  intoxicated  with  love  and  joy,  when 


3IO  vendetta! 

Guido  Ferrari  had  been  by  my  side,  and  had  drunk  in  for  the 
first  time  the  poisoned  draught  of  temptation  from  the  loveli- 
ness of  my  wife's  face  and  form;  when  I,  poor  fool!  would  as 
soon  have  thought  that  God  could  lie,  as  that  either  of  these 
whom  I  adored  could  play  me  false.  I  drew  the  wedding-ring 
from  my  pocket  and  looked  at  it — it  was  sparklingly  bright 
and  appeared  new.  Yet  it  was  old — it  was  the  very  same  ring 
I  had  drawn  oflf  my  wife's  finger  the  day  before;  it  had  only 
been  burnished  afresh  by  a  skilled  jeweler,  and  showed  no 
more  marks  of  wear  than  if  it  had  been  bought  that  morning. 

The  great  bell  of  the  cathedral  boomed  out  eleven,  and  as 
the  last  stroke  swung  from  the  tower,  the  chapel  doors  were 
flung  more  widely  open ;  then  came  the  gentle  rustle  of  trail- 
ing robes,  and  turning,  I  beheld  my  wife.  She  approached, 
leaning  lightly  on  the  arm  of  the  old  Chevalier  Mancini,  who, 
true  to  his  creed  of  gallantry,  had  accepted  with  alacrity 
the  post  of  paternal  protector  to  the  bride  on  this  occasion ; 
and  I  could  not  well  wonder  at  the  universal  admiration  that 
broke  in  suppressed  murmurs  from  all  assembled,  as  this  most 
fair  masterpiece  of  the  devil's  creation  paced  slowly  and 
gracefully  up  the  aisle.  She  wore  a  dress  of  clinging  white 
velvet  made  with  the  greatest  simplicity — a  lace  veil,  price- 
less in  value  and  fine  as  gossamer,  draped  her  from  head  to 
foot — the  jewels  I  had  given  her  flashed  about  her  like  little 
scintillating  points  of  light,  in  her  hair,  at  her  waist,  on  her 
breast  and  uncovered  arms. 

Being,  as  she  deemed  herself,  a  widow,  she  had  no  brides- 
maids ;  her  train  was  held  up  by  a  handsome  boy  clad  in  the 
purple  and  gold  costume  of  a  sixteenth  century  page — he  was 
the  youngest  son  of  the  Duke  di  Marina.  Two  tiny  girls  of 
five  and  six  years  of  age  went  before,  strewing  white  roses 
and  lilies,  and  stepping  daintily  backward  as  though  in  attend- 
ance on  a  queen :  they  looked  like  two  fairies  who  had  slipped 
out  of  a  midnight  dream,  in  their  little  loose  gowns  of  gold- 
colored  plush,  with  wreaths  of  meadow  daffodils  on  their 
tumbled  curly  hair.  'They  had  been  well  trained  by  Nina 
herself,  for  on  arrival  at  the  altar  they  stood  demurely,  one 
on  each  side  of  her,  the  pretty  page  occupying  his  place  be- 
hind, and  still  holding  up  the  end  of  the  velvet  train  with  a 
charming  air  of  hauteur  and  self-complacency. 

The  whole  cortege  was  a  picture  in  its  way,  as  Nina  had 
meant  it  to  be :  she  was  fond  of  artistic  effects.     She  smiled 


vendetta!  311 

langtiishingly  upon  me  as  she  reached  the  altar,  and  sunk  on 
her  knees  beside  me  in  prayer.  The  music  swelled  forth  with 
redoubled  grandeur,  the  priests  and  acolytes  appeared,  the 
marriage  service  commenced.  As  I  placed  the  ring  on  the 
book  I  glanced  furtively  at  the  bride ;  her  fair  head  was  bent 
demurely — she  seemed  absorbed  in  holy  meditations.  The 
priest  having  performed  the  ceremony  of  sprinkling  it  with 
holy  water,  I  took  it  back,  and  set  it  for  the  second  time  on 
my  wife's  soft  white  little  hand — set  it  in  accordance  with  the 
Catholic  ritual,  first  on  the  thumb,  then  on  the  second  finger, 
then  on  the  third,  and  lastly  on  the  fourth,  where  I  left  it  in 
its  old  place,  wondering  as  I  did  so,  and  murmured,  "In 
Nomine  Patris  et  Filii  ct  SpirilCs  Sancti,  Amen  !"  whether  she 
recognized  it  as  the  one  she  had  worn  so  long !  But  it  was 
evident  she  did  not ;  her  calm  was  unbroken  by  even  so  much 
as  a  start  or  tremor ;  she  had  the  self-possession  of  a  perfectly 
satisfied,  beautiful,  vain,  and  utterly  heartless  woman. 

The  actual  ceremony  of  marriage  was  soon  over ;  then  fol- 
lowed the  Mass,  in  which  we,  the  newly  wedded  pair,  were 
compelled,  in  submission  to  the  rule  of  the  Church,  to  receive 
the  Sacrament.  I  shuddered  as  the  venerable  priest  gave  me 
the  Sacred  Host.  What  had  /to  do  with  the  inward  purity 
and  peace  this  memento  of  Christ  is  supposed  to  leave  in  our 
souls?  Methought  the  Crucified  Image  in  the  chapel  regarded 
me  afresh  with  those  pained  eyes,  and  said,  "  Even  so  dost 
thou  seal  thine  own  damnation !"  Yet  she,  the  true  murderess, 
the  arch  liar,  received  the  Sacrament  with  the  face  of  a  rapt 
angel — the  very  priest  himself  seemed  touched  by  those  up- 
raised, candid,  glorious  eyes,  the  sweet  lips  so  reverently 
parted,  the  absolute,  reliable  peace  that  rested  on  that  white 
brow,  like  an  aureole  round  the  head  of  a  saint! 

"  If  /  am  damned,  then  is  she  thrice  damned !"  I  said  to  my- 
self, recklessly.  "  I  dare  say  hell  is  wide  enough  for  us  to  live 
apart  when  we  get  there." 

Thus  I  consoled  my  conscience,  and  turned  resolutely  away 
from  the  painted  appealing  faces  on  the  wall — the  faces  that 
in  their  various  expressions  of  sorrow,  resignation,  pain,  and 
death  seemed  now  to  be  all  pervaded  by  another  look,  that  of 
astonishment — astonishment,  so  I  fancied,  that  such  a  man  as 
I,  and  such  a  woman  as  she,  should  be  found  in  the  width  of 
the  whole  world,  and  should  be  permitted  to  kneel  at  God's 
altar  without  being  struck  dead  for  their  blasphemy ! 


312  vendetta! 

Ah,  good  saints,  well  may  you  be  astonished !  Had  you  lived 
in  our  day  you  must  have  endured  worse  martyrdoms  than  the 
boiling  oil  or  the  wrenching  rack !  What  you  suffered  was 
the  mere  physical  pain  of  torn  muscles  and  scorching  flesh, 
pain  that  at  its  utmost  could  not  last  long ;  but  your  souls 
were  clothed  with  majesty  and  power,  and  were  glorious  in 
the  light  of  love,  faith,  hope,  and  charity  with  all  men.  We 
have  reversed  the  position  you  occupied!  We  have  partly 
learned,  and  are  still  learning,  how  to  take  care  of  our  dearly 
beloved  bodies,  how  to  nourish  and  clothe  them  and  guard 
them  from  cold  and  disease;  but  our  souls,  good  saints,  the 
souls  that  with  you  were  everything — these  we  smirch,  burn, 
and  rack,  torture  and  destroy — these  we  stamp  upon  till  we 
crush  out  God's  image  therefrom — these  we  spit  and  jeer  at, 
crucify  and  drown !  There  is  the  difference  between  you,  the 
strong  and  wise  of  a  fruitful  olden  time,  and  we,  the  miser- 
able, puny  weaklings  of  a  sterile  modern  age. 

Had  you,  sweet  St.  Dorothy,  or  fair  child-saint  Agnes,  lived 
in  this  day,  you  would  have  felt  something  sharper  than  the 
executioner's  sword;  for  being  pure,  you  would  have  been 
dubbed  the  worst  of  women— being  prayerful,  you  would  have 
been  called  hypocrites — being  faithful,  you  would  have  been 
suspected  of  all  vileness — being  loving,  you  would  have  been 
mocked  at  more  bitterly  than  the  soldiers  of  Pontius  Pilate 
mocked  Christ;  but  you  would  have  been_/r^^ — free  to  indulge 
your  own  opinions,  for  ours  is  the  age  of  liberty.  Yet  how 
much  better  for  you  to  have  died  than  have  lived  till  now! 

Absorbed  in  strange,  half-morose,  half-speculative  fancies, 
I  scarcely  heard  the  close  of  the  solemn  service.  I  was  roused 
by  a  delicate  touch  from  my  wife,  and  I  woke,  as  it  were,  with 
a  start,  to  hear  the  sonorous,  crashing  chords  of  the  wedding- 
march  in  "  Lohengrin"  thundering  through  the  air.  All  was 
over:  my  wife  wa.s mifie  indeed — mine  most  thoroughly — mine 
by  the  exceptionally  close-tied  knot  of  a  double  marriage — 
mine  to  do  as  I  would  with  "till  death  should  us  part."  How 
long,  I  gravely  mused,  how  long  before  death  could  come  to 
do  us  this  great  service?  And  straightway  I  began  counting, 
counting  certain  spaces  of  time  that  must  elapse  before —  I 
was  still  absorbed  in  this  mental  arithmetic  even  while  I 
mechanically  offered  my  arm  to  my  wife  as  we  entered  the 
vestry  to  sign  our  names  in  the  marriage  register.  So  occu- 
pied was  I  in  my  calculations  that  I  nearly  caught  myself 


vendetta!  313 

murmurinj:^  certain  numbers  aloud.  I  checked  this  and  recall- 
ing my  thoughts  by  a  strong  effort,  I  strove  to  appear  inter- 
ested and  delighted,  as  I  walked  the  aisle  with  my  beautiful 
bride,  through  the  ranks  of  admiring  and  eager  spectators. 

On  reaching  the  outer  doors  of  the  chapel  several  flower- 
girls  emptied  their  full  and  fragrant  baskets  at  our  feet;  and 
in  return,  I  bade  one  of  my  servants  distribute  a  bag  of  coins 
I  had  brought  for  the  purpose,  knowing  from  former  experi- 
ence that  it  would  be  needed.  To  tread  across  such  a  heap  of 
flowers  required  some  care,  many  of  the  blossoms  clinging  to 
Nina's  velvet  train — we  therefore  moved  forward  slowly. 

Just  as  we  had  almost  reached  the  carriage,  a  young  girl, 
with  large  laughing  eyes  set  like  flashing  jewels  in  her  soft 
oval  face,  threw  down  in  my  path  a  cluster  of  red  roses.  A 
sudden  fury  of  impotent  passion  possessed  me,  and  I  crushed 
my  heel  instantly  and  savagelj^  upon  the  crimson  blossoms, 
stamping  upon  them  again  and  again  so  violently  that  my 
wife  raised  her  delicate  eyebrows  in  amazement,  and  the 
pressing  people  who  stood  round  us  shrugged  their  shoul- 
ders and  gazed  at  one  another  with  looks  of  utter  bewilder- 
ment— while  the  girl  who  had  thrown  them  shrunk  back  in 
terror,  her  face  paling  as  she  murmured,  "  Santissima  Madonna  ! 
mi  fa  paura!"  I  bit  my  lip  with  vexation,  inwardly  cursing 
the  weakness  of  my  own  behavior.  I  laughed  lightly  in  an- 
swer to  Nina's  unspoken,  half-alarmed  inquiry. 

"It  is  nothing — a  mere  fancy  of  mine.  I  hate  red  roses! 
They  look  to  me  like  human  blood  in  flower!" 

She  shuddered  slightly. 

"  What  a  horrible  idea !     How  can  you  think  of  such  a  thing?" 

I  made  no  response,  but  assisted  her  into  the  carriage  with 
elaborate  care  and  courtesy ;  then  entering  it  myself,  we  drove 
together  back  to  the  hotel,  where  the  wedding  breakfast 
awaited  us. 

This  is  always  a  feast  of  general  uneasiness  and  embarrass- 
ment everywhere,  even  in  the  sunny,  pleasure-loving  south; 
every  one  is  glad  when  it  is  over,  and  when  the  flowery,  un- 
meaning speeches  and  exaggerated  compliments  are  brought 
to  a  fitting  and  happy  conck:sion.  Among  my  assembled 
guests,  all  of  whom  belonged  to  the  best  and  most  distin- 
guished families  in  Naples,  there  was  a  pervading  atmosphere 
of  undoubted  chilliness:  the  women  were  dull,  being  rendered 
jealous  of  the  bride's  beauty  and  the  richness  of  her  white 


314  vendetta! 

velvet  and  jewels;  the  men  were  constrained,  nnd  toul4 
scarcely  force  themselves  into  even  the  appearance  of  cor- 
diality— they  evidently  thought  that,  witn  such  wealth  as 
mine,  I  would  have  done  much  better  to  remain  a  bachelor. 
In  truth,  Italians,  and  especially  Neapolitans,  are  by  no  means 
enthusiastic  concerning  the  suppositious  joys  of  marriage. 
They  are  apt  to  shake  their  heads,  and  to  look  upon  it  as  sa 
misfortune  rather  than  a  blessing.  "  L'altare  I  la  tomba  dell' 
amove"  \%  a  very  common  saying  with  us,  and  very  commonly 
believed. 

It  was  a  relief  to  us  all  when  we  rose  from  the  splendidly 
appointed  table,  and  separated  for  a  few  hours.  We  were  to 
meet  again  at  the  ball,  which  was  fixed  to  commence  at  nine 
o'clock  in  the  evening.  The  cream  of  the  event  v/as  to  be 
tasted  then — the  final  toasting  of  the  bride  was  to  take  place 
then — then  there  would  be  music,  mirth  and  dancing,  and  all 
the  splendor  of  almost  royal  revelry.  I  escorted  my  wife  with 
formal  courtesy  to  a  splendid  apartment  which  had  been  pre- 
pared for  her,  for  she  had,  as  she  told  me,  many  things  to  do 
— as,  for  instance,  to  take  off  her  bridal  robes,  to  study  every 
detail  of  her  wondrous  ball  costume  for  the  night,  and  to 
superintend  her  maid  in  the  packing  of  her  trunks  for  the  next 
day's  journey.  The  next  day  !  I  smiled  giimly — I  wondered 
how  she  would  enjoy  her  trip!  Then  I  kiosed  her  hand  with 
the  most  profound  respect  and  left  her  to  repose — to  refresh 
and  prepare  herself  for  the  brilliant  festivity  of  the  evening. 

Our  marriage  customs  are  not  as  coarse  as  those  of  some 
countries ;  a  bridegroom  in  Italy  thinks  it  scarcely  decent  to 
persecute  his  bride  with  either  his  presence  or  his  caresses  as 
soon  as  the  Church  has  made  her  his.  On  the  contrary,  if 
ardent,  he  restrains  his  ardor — he  forbears  to  intrude,  he 
strives  to  keep  up  the  illusion,  the  rose-colored  light,  or  rather 
mist,  of  love  as  long'  as  possible,  and  he  has  a  wise,  instinctive 
dread  of  becoming  overfamiliar,  well  knowing  that  nothing 
kills  romance  so  swiftly  and  surely  as  the  bare  blunt  prose  of 
close  and  constant  proximity.  And  I,  like  other  gentlemen  of 
my  rank  and  class,  gave  my  twice-wedded  wife  her  liberty — 
the  last  hours  of  liberty  she  would  ever  know.  I  left  her  to 
busy  herself  with  the  trifles  she  best  loved — trifles  of  dress 
and  personal  adornment,  for  which  many  women  barter  away 
their  soul's  peace  and  honor,  and  divest  themselves  of  the  last 
shred  of  right  and  honest  principle  merely  to  outshine  others 


vendetta!  315 

of  their  own  sex,  and  sow  broadcast  heart-ournings,  petty 
envies,  mean  hatreds  and  contemptible  spites,  where,  if  they 
did  but  choose,  there  might  be  a  widely  dilTerent  harvest. 

It  is  easy  to  understand  the  feelings  of  Marie  Stuart  when 
she  arrayed  herself  in  her  best  garments  for  her  execution :  it 
was  simply  the  heroism  of  supreme  vanity,  the  desire  to  fasci- 
nate if  possible  the  very  headsman.  One  can  understand  any 
beautiful  woman  being  as  brave  as  she.  Harder  than  death 
itself  would  it  have  seemed  to  her  had  she  been  compelled  to 
appear  on  the  scaffold  looking  hideous.  She  was  resolved  to 
make  the  most  of  her  charms  so  long  as  life  lasted.  I  thought 
of  that  sweet-lipped,  luscious-smiling  queen  as  I  parted  from 
my  wife  for  a  few  brief  hours:  royal  and  deeply  injured  lady 
though  she  was,  she  merited  her  fate,  for  she  was  treacherous 
— there  can  be  no  doubt  of  that.  Yet  most  people  reading  her 
history  pity  her — I  know  not  why.  It  is  strange  that  so  much 
of  the  world's  sympathy  is  wasted  on  false  women! 

I  strolled  into  one  of  the  broad  loggie  of  the  hotel,  from 
whence  I  could  see  a  portion  of  the  Piazza  del  Popolo,  and 
lighting  a  cigar,  I  leisurely  watched  the  frolics  of  the  crowd. 
The  customary  fooling  proper  to  the  day  was  going  on,  and 
no  detail  of  it  seemed  to  pall  on  the  good-natured,  easily 
amused  folks  who  must  have  seen  it  all  so  often  before. 
Much  laughter  was  being  excited  by  the  remarks  of  a  vender 
of  quack  medicines,  who  was  talking  with  extreme  volubility 
to  a  number  of  gayly  dressed  girls  and  fishermen.  I  could  not 
distinguish  his  words,  but  I  judged  he  was  selling  the  "  elixir 
of  love,"  from  his  absurd  amatory  gestures — an  elixir  com- 
pounded, no  doubt,  of  a  little  harmless  eau  siicri. 

Flags  tossed  on  the  breeze,  trumpets  brayed,  drums  beat; 
improvisatores  twanged  their  guitars  and  mandolines  loudly  to 
attract  attention,  and  failing  in  their  efforts,  swore  at  each 
other  with  the  utmost  joviality  and  heartiness;  flower-girls 
and  lemonade-sellers  made  the  air  ring  with  their  conflicting 
cries ;  now  and  then  a  shower  of  chalky  coti/etti  flew  out  from 
adjacent  windows,  dusting  with  white  powder  the  coats  of  the 
passers-by;  clusters  of  flowers  tied  with  favors  of  gay-colored 
ribbons  were  lavishly  flung  at  the  feet  of  bright-eyed  peasant 
girls,  who  rejected  or  accepted  them  at  pleasure,  with  light 
words  of  badinage  or  playful  repartee;  clowns  danced  and 
tumbled,  dogs  barked,  church  bells  clanged,  and  through  all 
the  waving  width  of  color  and  movement  crept  the  miserable, 


3i6  vendetta! 

shrinking  forms  of  diseased  and  loathly  beggars  whining  ror 
a  soldo,  and  clad  in  rags  that  barely  covered  their  halting, 
withered  limbs. 

It  was  a  scene  to  bewilder  the  brain  and  dazzle  the  eyes, 
and  I  was  just  turning  away  from  it  out  of  sheer  fatigue,  when 
a  sudden  cessation  of  movement  in  the  swaying,  whirling 
crowd,  and  a  slight  hush,  caused  me  to  look  out  once  more.  1 
perceived  the  cause  of  the  momentary  stillness — a  funeral 
cortege  appeared,  moving  at  a  slow  and  solemn  pace;  as  it 
passed  across  the  square,  heads  were  uncovered,  and  women 
crossed  themselves  devoutly.  Like  a  black  shadowy  snake  it 
coiled  through  the  mass  of  shifting  color  and  brilliance — an- 
other moment,  and  it  was  gone.  The  depressing  effect  of  its 
appearance  was  soon  effaced — the  merry  crowds  resumed  their 
thousand  and  one  freaks  of  folly,  their  shrieking,  laughing 
and  dancing,  and  all  was  as  before.     Why  not? 

The  dead  are  soon  forgotten;  none  knew  that  better  than  I! 
Leaning  my  arms  lazily  on  the  edge  of  the  balcony,  I  finished 
smoking  my  cigar.  That  glimpse  of  death  in  the  midst  of  life 
had  filled  me  with  a  certain  satisfaction.  Strangely  enough, 
my  thoughts  began  to  busy  themselves  with  the  old  modes  of 
torture  that  used  to  be  legal,  and  that,  after  all,  were  not  so 
unjust  when  practiced  upon  persons  professedly  vile.  For 
instance,  the  iron  coffin  of  Lissa — that  ingeniously  contrived 
box  in  which  the  criminal  was  bound  fast  hand  and  foot,  and 
then  was  forced  to  watch  the  huge  lid  descending  slowly, 
slowly,  slowly,  half  an  inch  at  a  time  till  at  last  its  ponderous 
weight  crushed  into  a  flat  and  mangled  mass  the  writhing 
wretch  within,  who  had  for  long  agonized  hours  watched 
death  steadily  approaching.  Suppose  that  /had  such  a  coffin 
now!  I  stopped  my  train  of  reflection  with  a  slight  shudder. 
No,  no;  she  whom  I  sought  to  punish  was  so  lovely,  such  a 
softly  colored,  witching,  gracious  body,  though  tenanted  by  a 
wicked  soul — she  should  keep  her  beauty !  I  would  not  de- 
stroy that — I  would  be  satisfied  with  my  plan  as  already 
devised. 

I  threw  away  the  end  of  my  smoked-out  cigar  and  entered 
my  own  room.  Calling  Vincenzo,  who  was  now  resigned  and 
even  eager  to  go  to  Avellino,  I  gave  him  his  final  instructions, 
and  placed  in  his  charge  the  iron  cash-box,  which,  unknown 
to  him,  contained  12,000  francs  in  notes  and  gold.  This  was 
the  last  good  action  I  could  do :  it  was  a  sufficient  sum  to  set 


vendetta!  317 

him  up  as  a  well-to-do  farmer  and  fruit-grower  in  Avellino 
with  Lilla  and  her  little  dowry  combined.  He  also  carried  a 
sealed  letter  to  Signora  Monti,  which  I  told  him  she  was  not 
to  open  till  a  week  had  elapsed;  this  letter  explained  the  con- 
tents of  the  box  and  my  wishes  concerning  it ;  it  also  asked 
the  good  woman  to  send  to  the  Villa  Romani  for  Assunta  and 
her  helpless  charge,  poor  old  paralyzed  Giacomo,  and  to  tend 
the  latter  as  well  as  she  could  till  his  death,  which  I  knew 
could  not  be  far  oft. 

I  had  thought  of  everything  as  far  as  possible,  and  I  could 
already  foresee  what  a  happy,  peaceful  home  there  would  be 
in  the  little  mountain  town  guarded  by  the  Monte  Vergine. 
Lilla  and  Vincenzo  would  wed,  I  knew;  Signora  Monti  and 
Assunta  would  console  each  other  with  their  past  memories 
and  in  the  tending  of  Lilla's  children;  for  some  little  time, 
perhaps,  they  would  talk  of  me  and  wonder  sorrowfully  where 
I  had  gone ;  then  gradually  they  would  forget  me,  even  as  I 
desired  to  be  forgotten. 

Yes ;  I  had  done  all  I  could  for  those  who  had  never  wronged 
me,  I  had  acquitted  myself  of  my  debt  to  Vincenzo  for  his 
affection  and  fidelity ;  the  rest  of  my  way  was  clear.  I  had  no 
more  to  do  save  the  o//e  tJiijig,  the  one  deed  which  had  clamored 
so  long  for  accomplishment.  Revenge,  like  a  beckoning 
ghost,  had  led  me  on  step  by  step  for  many  weary  days  and 
months,  which  to  me  had  seemed  cycles  of  suffering;  but  now 
it  paused— it  faced  me — and  turning  its  blood-red  eyes  upon 
my  soul  said,  "  Strike !" 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

The  ball  opened  brilliantly.  The  rooms  were  magnificently 
decorated,  and  the  soft  luster  of  a  thousand  lamps  shone  on  a 
scene  of  splendor  almost  befitting  the  court  of  a  king.  Some 
of  the  stateliest  nobles  in  all  Italy  were  present,  their  breasts 
glittering  with  jeweled  orders  and  ribbons  of  honor;  some  of 
the  loveliest  women  to  be  seen  anywhere  in  the  world  flitted 
across  the  polished  floors,  like  poets'  dreams  of  the  gliding 
sylphs  that  haunt  rivers  and  fountains  by  moonlight. 

But  fairest  where  all  were  fair,  peerless  in  the  exuberance 
of  her  triumphant  vanity,  and  in  the  absolute  faultlessness  of 


3i8  vendetta! 

her  delicate  cnarms,  was  my  wife — the  bride  of  the  day,  tne 
heroine  of  the  night.  Never  had  she  looked  so  surpassingly 
beautiful,  and  I,  even  I,  felt  my  pulse  beat  quicker,  and  the 
blood  course  more  hotly  through  my  veins,  as  I  beheld  her, 
radiant,  victorious,  and  smiling — a  veritable  queen  of  the 
fairies,  as  dainty  as  a  drop  of  dew,  as  piercing  to  the  eye  as  a 
flash  of  light.  Her  dress  was  some  wonderful  mingling  of 
misty  lace,  with  the  sheen  of  satin  and  glimmering  showers  of 
pearl ;  diamonds  glittered  on  her  bodice  like  sunlight  on  white 
foam;  the  brigand's  jewels  flashed  gloriously  on  her  round 
white  throat  and  in  her  tiny  shell-like  ears,  while  the  masses 
of  her  gold  hair  were  coiled  to  the  top  of  her  small  head  and 
there  caught  by  a  priceless  circlet  of  rose-brilliants — brilliants 
that  I  well  remembered — they  had  belonged  to  my  mother. 
Yet  more  lustrous  than  the  light  of  the  gems  she  wore  was  the 
deep,  ardent  glory  of  her  eyes,  dark  as  night  and  luminous  as 
stars ;  more  delicate  than  the  filmy  robes  that  draped  her  was 
the  pure,  pearl-like  whiteness  of  her  neck,  which  was  just 
sufficiently  displayed  to  be  graceful  without  suggesting  im- 
modesty. 

For  Italian  women  do  not  uncover  their  bosoms  for  the 
casual  inspection  of  strangers,  as  is  the  custom  of  their  Eng- 
lish and  German  sisters ;  they  know  well  enough  that  any 
lady  venturing  to  wear  a  decoUetd  dress  would  find  it  impossible 
to  obtain  admittance  to  a  court  ball  at  the  Palazzo  Quirinale. 
She  would  be  looked  ui^on  as  one  of  a  questionable  class,  and 
no  matter  how  high  her  rank  and  station,  would  run  the  risk 
of  ejection  from  the  doors,  as  on  one  occasion  did  unfortu- 
nately happen  to  an  English  peeress,  who,  ignorant  of  Italian 
customs,  went  to  an  evening  reception  in  Rome  arrayed  in 
a  very  low  bodice  with  straps  instead  of  sleeves.  Her  re- 
monstrances were  vain ;  she  was  politely  but  firmly  refused 
admittance,  though  told  she  might  gain  her  point  by  changing 
her  costume,  which  I  believe  she  wisely  did. 

Some  of  the  gra?ides  dames  present  at  the  ball  that  night 
wore  dresses  the  like  of  which  are  seldom  or  never  seen  out  of 
Italy — robes  sown  with  jewels,  and  thick  with  wondrous  em- 
broidery, such  as  have  been  handed  down  from  generation  to 
generation  through  hundreds  of  years.  As  an  example  of  this, 
the  Duchess  of  Marina's  cloth  of  gold  train,  stitched  with  small 
rubies  and  seed-pearls,  had  formerly  belonged  to  the  family 
of  Lorenzo  de  Medici.     Such  garments  as  these,  when  they 


vendetta!  319 

are  part  of  the  property  of  a  great  house,  are  worn  only  on 
particular  occasions,  perhaps  once  in  a  year;  and  then  they 
are  laid  carefully  by  and  sedulously  protected  from  dust  and 
moths  and  damp,  receiving  as  much  attention  as  the  priceless 
pictures  and  books  of  a  famous  historical  mansion.  5Jothing 
ever  designed  by  any  great  modern  tailor  or  milliner  can  hope 
to  compete  with  the  magnificent  workmanship  and  durable 
material  of  the/esfa  dresses  that  are  locked  preciously  away 
in  the  old  oaken  coffers  of  the  greatest  Italian  families — dresses 
that  are  beyond  valuation,  because  of  the  romances  and  trage- 
dies attached  to  them,  and  which,  when  worn,  make  all  the 
costliest  fripperies  of  to-day  look  flimsy  and  paltry  beside 
them,  like  the  attempts  of  a  servant  to  dress  as  tastefully  as 
her  mistress. 

Such  glitter  of  gold  and  silver,  such  scintillations  from  the 
burning  eyes  of  jewels,  such  cloud-like  wreaths  of  floating 
laces,  such  subtle  odors  of  rare  and  exquisite  perfume,  all 
things  that  most  keenly  prick  and  stimulate  the  senses  were 
round  me  in  fullest  force  this  night — this  one  dazzling, 
supreme  and  terrible  night,  that  was  destined  to  burn  into  my 
brain  like  a  seal  of  scorching  fire.  Yes ;  till  I  die,  that  night 
will  remain  with  me  as  though  it  were  a  breathing,  sentient 
thing;  and  after  death,  who  knows  whether  it  may  not  uplift 
itself  in  some  tangible,  awful  shape,  and  confront  me  with  its 
flashing  mock-luster,  and  the  black  heart  of  its  true  mean- 
ing in  its  menacing  eyes,  to  take  its  drear  place  by  the  side 
of  my  abandoned  soul  through  all  eternity!  I  remember 
now  how  I  shivered  and  started  out  of  the  bitter  reverie  into 
which  I  had  fallen  at  the  sound  of  my  wife's  low,  laughing 
voice. 

"You  must  dance,  Cesare,"  she  said,  with  a  mischievous 
smile.  "  You  are  forgetting  your  duties.  You  should  open 
the  ball  with  me!" 

I  rose  at  once  mechanically. 

"  What  dance  is  it?"  I  asked,  forcing  a  smile.  "  I  fear  you 
will  find  me  but  a  clumsy  partner." 

She  pouted. 

"Oh,  surely  not!  You  are  not  going  to  disgrace  me — you 
really  must  try  and  dance  properly  just  this  once.  It  will  look 
so  stupid  if  you  make  any  mistake.  The  band  was  going  to 
play  a  quadrille;  I  would  not  have  it,  and  told  them  to  strike 
tip  the  Hungarian  waltz  instead.     But  I  assure  you  I  shall 


320  vendetta! 

never  forgive  you  if  you  waltz  badly — notning  looks  so  awk- 
ward and  absurd." 

I  made  no  answer,  but  placed  my  arm  round  her  waist  and 
stood  ready  to  begin.  I  avoided  looking  at  her  as  much  as 
possible,  for  it  was  growing  more  and  more  difficult  with  each 
moment  that  passed  to  hold  the  mastery  over  myself.  I  was 
consumed  between  hate  and  love.  Yes,  love ! — of  an  evil  kind, 
I  own,  and  in  which  there  was  no  shred  of  reverence — filled 
me  with  a  sort  of  foolish  fury,  which  mingled  itself  with  an- 
other and  manlier  craving,  namely,  to  proclaim  her  vileness 
then  and  there  before  all  her  titled  and  admiring  friends,  and 
to  leave  her  shamed  in  the  dust  of  scorn,  despised  and  aban- 
doned. Yet  I  knew  well  that  were  I  to  speak  out — to  declare 
my  history  and  hers  before  that  brilliant  crowd — I  should  be 
accounted  mad,  and  that  for  a  woman  such  as  she  there  ex- 
isted no  shame. 

The  swinging  measure  of  the  slow  Hungarian  waltz,  that 
most  witching  of  dances,  danced  perfectly  only  by  those  of 
the  warm-blooded  southern  temperament,  now  commenced.  It 
was  played  pianissimo,  and  stole  through  the  room  like  the 
fluttering  breath  of  a  soft  sea  wind.  I  had  always  been  an  ex- 
cellent waltzer,  and  my  step  had  fitted  in  with  that  of  Nina  as 
harmoniously  as  the  two  notes  of  a  perfect  chord.  She  found 
it  so  on  this  occasion,  and  glanced  up  with  a  look  of  gratified 
surprise  as  I  bore  her  lightly  with  languorous,  dream-like  ease 
of  movement  through  the  glittering  ranks  of  our  guests,  who 
watched  us  admiringly  as  we  circled  the  room  two  or  three 
times. 

Then  all  present  followed  our  lead,  and  in  a  couple  of 
minutes  the  ball-room  was  like  a  moving  flower-garden  in  full 
bloom,  rich  with  swaying  colors  and  rainbow-like  radiance ; 
while  the  music,  growing  stronger,  and  swelling  out  in 
marked  and  even  time,  echoed  forth  like  the  sound  of  clear- 
toned  bells  broken  through  by  the  singing  of  birds.  My  heart 
beat  furiously,  my  brain  reeled,  my  senses  swam  as  I  felt  my 
wife's  warm  breath  on  my  cheek;  I  clasped  her  waist  more 
closely,  I  held  her  little  gloved  hand  more  firmly.  She  felt 
the  double  pressure,  and,  lifting  her  white  eyelids  fringed 
with  those  long  dark  lashes  that  gave  such  a  sleepy  witchery 
to  her  eyes,  her  lips  parted  in  a  little  smile. 

"  At  last  you  love  me !"  she  whispered. 

"  At  last,  at  last,"  I  muttered,  scarce  knowing  what  I  said. 


vendetta!  321 

"  Had  I  not  loved  you  at  first,  bellissima,  I  should  not  have  been 
to  you  what  I  am  to-night." 

A  low  ripple  of  laughter  was  her  response. 

"I  knew  it,"  she  murmured  again,  half  breathlessly,  as  I 
drew  her  with  swifter  and  more  voluptuous  motion  into  the 
vortex  of  the  dancers.  "  You  tried  to  be  cold,  but  I  knew  I 
could  make  you  love  me — yes,  love  me  passionately — and  I 
was  right."  Then  with  an  outburst  of  triumphant  vanity  she 
added,  "  I  believe  you  would  die  for  me !" 

I  bent  over  her  more  closely.  My  hot  quick  breath  moved 
the  feathery  gold  of  her  hair. 

"  I  have  died  for  you,"  I  said;  "  I  have  killed  my  old  self  for 
your  sake." 

Dancing  still,  encircled  by  my  arms,  and  gliding  along  like 
a  sea-nymph  on  moonlighted  foam,  she  sighed  restlessly. 

"  Tell  me  what  you  mean,  amor  mio,"  she  asked,  in  the  ten- 
derest  tone  in  the  world. 

Ah,  God !  that  tender  seductive  cadence  of  her  voice,  how 
well  I  knew  it! — how  often  had  it  lured  away  my  strength,  as 
the  fabled  siren's  song  had  been  wont  to  wreck  the  listening 
mariner. 

"  I  mean  that  you  have  changed  me,  sweetest !"  I  whispered, 
in  fierce,  hurried  accents.  "  I  have  seemed  old — for  you  to- 
night I  will  be  young  again — for  you  my  chilled,  slow  blood 
shall  again  be  hot  and  quick  as  lava — for  you  my  long-buried 
past  shall  rise  in  all  its  pristine  vigor;  for  you  I  will  be  a 
lover,  such  as  perhaps  no  woman  ever  had  or  ever  will  have 
again!" 

She  heard,  and  nestled  closer  to  me  in  the  dance.  My 
I  words  pleased  her.  Next  to  her  worship  of  wealth  her  delight 
was  to  arouse  the  passions  of  men.  She  was  very  panther-like 
in  her  nature — her  first  tendency  was  to  devour,  her  next  to 
gambol  with  any  animal  she  met,  though  her  sleek,  swift  play- 
fulness might  mean  death.  She  was  by  no  means  exceptional 
in  this ;  there  are  many  women  like  her. 

As  the  music  of  the  waltz  grew  slower  and  slower,  dropping 
down  to  a  sweet  and  persuasive  conclusion,  I  led  my  wife  to  her 
fauteuil,  and  resigned  her  to  the  care  of  a  distinguished  Roman 
prince,  who  was  her  next  partner.  Then,  unobserved,  I 
slipped  out  to  make  inquiries  concerning  Vincenzo.  He  had 
gone;  one  of  the  waiters  at  the  hotel,  a  friend  of  his,  had  ac- 
companied him  and  seen  him  into  the  train  for  Avellino.  He 
21 


322  vendetta! 

had  looked  in  at  the  ball-room  before  leaving,  and  had  watched 
me  stand  up  to  dance  with  my  wife,  then  "  with  tears  in  his 
eyes" — so  said  the  vivacious  little  waiter,  who  had  just  returned 
from  the  station — he  had  started  without  daring  to  wish  me 
good-bye. 

I  heard  this  information  of  course  with  an  apparent  kindly 
indifference,  btit  in  my  heart  I  felt  a  sudden  vacancy,  a  drear, 
strange  loneliness.  With  my  faithful  servant  near  me  I  had 
felt  conscious  of  the  presence  of  a  friend,  for  friend  he  was  in 
his  own  humble,  unobtrusive  fashion;  but  now  I  was  alone — 
alone  in  a  loneliness  beyond  all  conceivable  comparison — alone 
to  do  my  work,  without  prevention  or  detection.  I  felt,  as  it 
were,  isolated  from  humanity,  set  apart  with  my  victim  on 
some  dim  point  of  time,  from  which  the  rest  of  the  world  re- 
ceded, where  the  searching  eye  of  the  Creator  alone  could 
behold  me.  Only  she  and  I  and  God — these  three  were  all 
that  existed  for  me  in  the  universe ;  between  these  three  must 
justice  be  fulfilled. 

Musingly,  with  downcast  eyes,  I  returned  to  the  ball-room. 
At  the  door  a  young  girl  faced  me — she  was  the  only  daughter 
of  a  great  Neapolitan  house.  Dressed  in  pure  white,  as  all 
such  maidens  are,  with  a  crown  of  snow-drops  on  her  dusky 
hair,  and  her  dimpled  face  lighted  with  laughter,  she  looked 
the  very  embodiment  of  early  spring.  She  addressed  me 
somewhat  timidly,  yet  with  all  a  child's  frankness. 

"Is  not  this  delightful?  I  feel  as  if  I  were  in  fairy-land! 
Do  you  know  this  is  my  first  ball?" 

I  smiled  wearily. 

"  Ay,  truly?    And  you  are  happy?" 

"  Oh,  happiness  is  not  the  word — it  is  ecstasy!  How  I  wish 
it  could  last  forever !  And — is  it  not  strange? — I  did  not  know 
I  was  beautiful  till  to-night." 

She  said  this  with  perfect  simplicity,  and  a  pleased  smile 
radiated  her  fair  features.     I  glanced  at  her  with  cold  scrutiny. 

"  Ah !  and  some  one  has  told  you  so." 

She  blushed  and  laughed  a  little  consciously. 

"  Yes;  the  great  Prince  de  Majano.  And  he  is  too  noble  to 
say  what  is  not  true,  so  I  must  he  'laj)iu  bella  donzella,'  as  he 
said,  must  I  not?" 

I  touched  the  snow-drops  that  she  wore  in  a  white  cluster  at 
her  breast. 

"  Look  at  your  flowers,  child,"  I  said,  earnestly.     "  See  how 


vendetta!  323 

they  begin  to  droop  in  this  heated  air.  The  poor  things! 
How  glad  they  would  feel  could  they  again  grow  in  the  cool 
wet  moss  of  the  woodlands,  waving  their  little  bells  to  the 
wholesome,  fresh  wind!  Would  they  revive  now,  think  you, 
for  your  great  Prince  de  Majano  if  he  told  them  they  were 
fair?  So  with  your  life  and  heart,  little  one — pass  them  through 
the  scorching  fire  of  flattery,  and  their  purity  must  wither  even 
as  these  fragile  blossoms.  And  as  for  beauty — are  you  more 
beautiful  than  shel" 

And  I  pointed  slightly  to  my  wife,  who  was  at  that  moment 
courtesying  to  her  partner  in  the  stately  formality  of  the  first 
quadrille. 

My  young  companion  looked,  and  her  clear  eyes  darkened 
enviously. 

"  Ah,  no,  no!  But  if  I  wore  such  lace  and  satin  and  pearls, 
and  had  such  jewels,  I  might  perhaps  be  more  like  her!" 

I  sighed  bitterly.  The  poison  had  already  entered  this 
child's  soul.     I  spoke  brusquely. 

"  Pray  that  you  may  never  be  like  her,"  I  said,  with  somber 
sternness,  and  not  heeding  her  look  of  astonishment.  "  You 
are  young — you  can  not  yet  have  thrown  off  religion.  Well, 
when  you  go  home  to-night,  and  kneel  beside  your  little  bed, 
made  holy  by  the  cross  above  it  and  your  mother's  blessing — 
pray — pray  with  all  your  strength  that  you  may  never  resem- 
ble in  the  smallest  degree  that  exquisite  woman  yonder!  So 
may  you  be  spared  her  fate." 

I  paused,  for  the  girl's  eyes  were  dilated  in  extreme  wonder 
and  fear.     I  looked  at  her,  and  laughed  abruptly  and  harshly, 

"I  forgot,"  I  said;  "the  lady  is  my  wife — I  should  have 
thought  of  that !  I  was  speaking  of — another  whom  you  do 
not  know.  Pardon  me !  when  I  am  fatigued  my  memory  wan- 
ders. Pay  no  attention  to  my  foolish  remarks.  Enjoy  your- 
self, my  child,  but  do  not  believe  all  the  pretty  speeches  of 
the  Prince  de  Majano.     A  rivederci!" 

And  smiling  a  forced  smile  I  left  her,  and  mingled  with  the 
crowd  of  m\  guests,  greeting  one  here,  another  there,  jesting 
lightly,  paying  unmeaning  compliments  to  the  women  who 
expected  them,  and  striving  to  distract  my  thoughts  with  the 
senseless  laughter  and  foolish  chatter  of  the  glittering  cluster 
of  society  butterflies,  all  the  while  desperately  counting  the 
tedious  minutes,  and  wondering  whether  my  patience,  so  long 
on  the  rack,  would  last  out  its  destined  time.     As  I  made  my 


324  vendetta! 

way  through  the  brilliant  assemblage,  Luziano  Saltistri,  the 
poet,  greeted  me  with  a  grave  smile. 

"  I  have  had  little  time  to  congratulate  you,  conte,"  he  said, 
in  those  mellifluous  accents  of  his  which  were  like  his  own 
improvised  music,  "  but  I  assure  you  I  do  so  with  all  my 
heart.  Even  in  my  most  fantastic  dreams  I  have  never  pict- 
ured a  fairer  heroine  of  a  life's  romance  than  the  lady  who  is 
now  the  Countess  Oliva." 

I  silently  bowed  my  thanks. 

"  I  am  of  a  strange  temperament,  I  siippose,"  he  resumed. 
"  To-night  this  ravishing  scene  of  beauty  and  splendor  makes 
me  sad  at  heart,  I  know  not  why.  It  seems  too  brilliant,  too 
dazzling.  I  would  as  soon  go  home  and  compose  a  dirge  as 
anything." 

I  laughed  satirically. 

"  Why  not  do  it?"  I  said.  "  You  are  not  the  first  person  who, 
being  present  at  a  marriage,  has,  with  perverse  incongruity, 
meditated  on  a  funeral !" 

A  wistful  look  came  into  his  brilliant  poetic  eyes. 

"  I  have  thought  once  or  twice,"  he  remarked  in  a  low  tone, 
"  of  that  misguided  young  man  Ferrari.  A  pity,  was  it  not, 
that  the  quarrel  occurred  between  you?" 

"A  pity  indeed!"  I  replied,  brusquely.  Then  taking  him 
by  the  arm  I  turned  him  round  so  that  he  faced  my  wife,  who 
was  standing  not  far  off.  "  But  look  at  the — the — a^igel  I  have 
married!  Is  she  not  a  fair  cause  for  a  dispute  even  unto 
death?  Fy  on  thee,  Luziano! — why  think  of  Ferrari?  He  is 
not  the  first  man  who  has  been  killed  for  the  sake  of  a  woman, 
nor  will  he  be  the  last !" 

Salustri  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  was  silent  for  a  minute 
or  two.     Then  he  added  with  his  own  bright  smile : 

"  Still,  aviico,  it  would  have  been  much  better  if  it  had  ended 
in  coffee  and  cognac.  Myself,  I  would  rather  shoot  a  man 
with  an  epigram  than  a  leaden  bullet !  By  the  bye,  do  you 
remember  our  talking  of  Cain  and  Abel  that  night?" 

"Perfectly." 

"  I  have  wondered  since,"  he  continued  half  merrily,  half 
seriously,  "  whether  the  real  cause  of  their  quarrel  has  ever 
been  rightly  told.  I  should  not  be  at  all  surprised  if  one  of 
these  days  some  savatit  Ci.0Q.s  not  discover  a  papyrus  containing 
a  missing  page  of  Holy  Writ  which  will  ascribe  the  reason  of 
the  first  bloodshed  to  a  love  affair.     Perhaps  there  were  wood 


vendetta!  325 

nymphs  in  those  days,  as  we  are  assured  there  were  giants, 
and  some  dainty  Dryad  might  have  driven  the  first  pair  of 
human  brothers  to  desperation  by  her  charms!  What  say 
you?" 

"  It  is  more  than  probable,"  I  answered,  lightly.  "  Make  a 
poem  of  it,  Salustri ;  people  will  say  you  have  improved  on 
the  Bible!" 

And  I  left  him  with  a  gay  gesture  to  join  other  groups,  and 
to  take  my  part  in  the  various  dances  which  were  now  follow- 
ing quickly  on  one  another.  The  supper  was  fixed  to  take 
place  at  midnight.  At  the  first  opportunity  I  had,  I  looked  at 
the  time.  Quarter  to  eleven! — my  heart  beat  quickly,  the 
blood  rushed  to  my  temples  and  surged  noisily  in  my  ears. 
The  hour  I  had  waited  for  so  long  and  so  eagerly  had  come ! 
At  last !  at  last ! 

******* 

Slowly  and  with  a  hesitating  step  I  approached  my  wife. 
She  was  resting  after  her  exertions  in  the  dance,  and  reclined 
languidly  in  a  low  velvet  chair,  chatting  gayly  with  that  very 
Prince  de  Majano  whose  honeyed  compliments  had  partly 
spoiled  the  budding  sweet  nature  of  the  youngest  girl  in  the 
room.  Apologizing  for  interrupting  the  conversation,  I  low- 
ered my  voice  to  a  persuasive  tenderness  as  I  addressed  her. 

"  Cara  sposina  tnia!  permit  me  to  remind  you  of  your 
promise." 

What  a  radiant  look  she  gave  me ! 

"  I  am  all  impatience  to  fulfill  it !    Tell  me  when — and  how?" 

"Almost  immediately.  You  know  the  private  passage 
through  which  we  entered  the  hotel  this  morning  on  our  re- 
turn from  church?" 

"  Perfectly." 
,     "  Well,  meet  me  there  in  twenty  minutes.     We  must  avoid 
being  observed  as  we  pass  out.     But,"  and  I  touched  her  deli- 
cate dress,  "  you  will  wear  something  warmer  than  this?" 

"I  have  a  long  sable  cloak  that  will  do,"  she  replied, 
brightly.     "  We  are  not  going  far?" 

"  No,  not  far." 

"  We  shall  return  in  time  for  supper,  of  course?" 

I  bent  my  head. 

"Naturally!" 

Her  eyes  danced  mirthfully. 

"  How  romantic  it  seems  !    A  moonlight  stroll  with  you  will 


326  vendetta! 

be  charming !  Who  shall  say  you  are  not  a  sentimental  bride- 
groom?   Is  there  a  bright  moon?" 

"I  believe  so." 

"  Cosa  bellissi7na  !  "  and  she  laughed  sweetly.  "  I  look  for- 
ward to  the  trip !  In  twenty  minutes  then  I  shall  be  with  you 
at  the  place  you  name,  Cesare ;  in  the  meanwhile  the  Marchese 
Gualdro  claims  me  for  this  mazurka." 

And  she  turned  with  her  bewitching  grace  of  manner  to  the 
marchese,  who  at  that  moment  advanced  with  his  courteous 
bow  and  fascinating  smile,  and  I  watched  them  as  they  glided 
forward  together  in  the  first  figure  of  the  elegant  Polish  dance, 
in  which  all  lovely  women  look  their  loveliest. 

Then,  checking  the  curse  that  rose  to  my  lips,  I  hurried 
away.  Up  to  my  own  room  I  rushed  with  feverish  haste,  full 
of  impatience  to  be  rid  of  the  disguise  I  had  worn  so  long. 

Within  a  few  minutes  I  stood  before  my  mirror,  transformed 
into  my  old  self  as  nearly  as  it  was  possible  to  be.  I  could 
not  alter  the  snowy  whiteness  of  my  hair,  but  a  few  deft  quick 
strokes  of  the  razor  soon  divested  me  of  the  beard  that  had 
given  me  so  elderly  an  aspect,  and  nothing  remained  but  the 
mustache  curling  slightly  up  at  the  corners  of  the  lip,  as  I  had 
worn  it  in  past  days.  I  threw  aside  the  dark  glasses,  and  my 
eyes,  densely  brilliant,  and  fringed  with  the  long  lashes  that 
had  always  been  their  distinguishing  feature,  shone  with  all 
the  luster  of  strong  and  vigorous  youth.  I  straightened  my- 
self up  to  my  full  height,  I  doubled  my  fist  and  felt  it  hard  as 
iron ;  I  laughed  aloud  in  the  triumphant  power  of  my  strong 
manhood.  I  thought  of  the  old  rag-dealing  Jew — "  You  could 
kill  anything  easily."  Ay,  so  I  could! — even  without  the  aid 
of  the  straight  swift  steel  of  the  Milanese  dagger  which  I  now 
drew  from  its  sheath  and  regarded  steadfastly,  while  I  care- 
fully felt  the  edge  of  the  blade  from  hilt  to  point.  Should  I 
take  it  with  me?  I  hesitated.  Yes!  it  might  be  needed.  I 
slipped  it  safely  and  secretly  into  ray  vest. 

And  now  the  proofs — the  proofs !  I  had  them  all  ready  to 
my  hand,  and  gathered  them  quickly  together;  first  the  things 
that  had  been  buried  with  me — the  gold  chain  on  which  hung 
the  locket  containing  the  portraits  of  my  wife  and  child,  the 
purse  and  card-case  which  Nina  herself  had  given  me,  the 
crucifix  the  monk  had  laid  on  my  breast  in  the  coffin.  The 
thought  of  that  coffin  moved  me  to  a  stern  smile — that  splin- 
tered, damp,  and  molderingwood  must  speak  for  itself  by  and 


vendetta!  327 

by.  Lastly  I  took  the  letters  sent  me  by  the  Marquis  D'Aven- 
court — the  beautiful,  passionate  love  epistles  she  had  written 
to  Guido  Ferrari  in  Rome. 

Now,  was  that  all?  I  thoroughly  searched  both  my  rooms, 
ransacking  every  comer.  I  had  destroyed  everything  that 
could  give  the  smallest  clew  to  my  actions;  I  left  nothing  save 
furniture  and  small  valuables,  a  respectable  present  enough  in 
their  way  to  the  landlord  of  the  hotel. 

I  glanced  again  at  myself  in  the  mirror.  Yes ;  I  was  once 
more  Fabio  Romani,  in  spite  of  my  white  hair;  no  one  that 
had  ever  known  me  intimately  could  doubt  my  identity.  I 
had  changed  my  evening  dress  for  a  rough,  every-day  suit, 
and  now  over  this  I  threw  my  long  Almaviva  cloak,  which 
draped  me  from  head  to  foot.  I  kept  its  folds  well  up  about 
my  mouth  and  chin,  and  pulled  on  a  soft  slouched  hat,  with 
the  brim  far  down  over  my  eyes.  There  was  nothing  unusual 
in  such  a  costume ;  it  was  common  enough  to  many  Neapoli- 
tans who  have  learned  to  dread  the  chill  night  winds  that  blow 
down  from  the  lofty  Apennines  in  early  spring.  Thus  at- 
tired, too,  I  knew  my  features  would  be  almost  invisible  to 
her,  more  especially  as  the  place  of  our  rendezvous  was  a  long 
dim  entresol  lighted  only  by  a  single  oil-lamp,  a  passage  that 
led  into  the  garden,  one  that  was  only  used  for  private  pur- 
poses, having  nothing  to  do  with  the  ordinary  modes  of  exit 
and  entrance  to  and  from  the  hotel. 

Into  this  hall  I  now  hurried  with  an  eager  step;  it  was 
deserted ;  she  was  not  there.  Impatiently  I  waited — the  min- 
utes seemed  hours !  Sounds  of  music  floated  toward  me  from 
the  distant  ball-room — the  dreamy,  swinging  measure  of  a 
Viennese  waltz.  I  could  almost  hear  the  flying  feet  of  the 
dancers.  I  was  safe  from  all  observation  where  I  stood — the 
servants  were  busy  preparing  the  grand  marriage  supper,  and 
all  the  inhabitants  of  the  hotel  were  absorbed  in  watching  the 
progress  of  the  brilliant  and  exceptional  festivities  of  the 
night. 

Would  she  never  come?  Suppose,  after  all,  she  should 
escape  me !  I  trembled  at  the  idea,  then  put  it  from  me  with 
a  smile  at  my  own  folly.  No,  her  punishment  was  just,  and 
in  her  case  the  Fates  were  inflexible.  So  I  thought  and  felt. 
I  paced  up  and  down  feverishly;  I  could  count  the  thick, 
heavy  throbs  of  my  own  heart.  How  long  the  moments 
seemed!    Would  she  never  come?    Ah!  at  last!    I  caught  the 


328  vendetta! 

sound  of  a  rustling  robe  and  a  light  step— a  breath  of  delicate 
fragrance  was  wafted  on  the  air  like  the  odor  of  falling  orange- 
blossoms.  I  turned,  and  saw  her  approaching.  With  swift 
grace  she  ran  up  to  me  as  eagerly  as  a  child,  her  heavy  cloak 
of  rich  Russian  sable  falling  back  from  her  shoulders  and  dis- 
playing her  glittering  dress,  the  dark  fur  of  the  hood  heighten- 
ing by  contrast  the  fairness  of  her  lovely  flushed  face,  so  that 
it  looked  like  the  face  of  one  of  Correggio's  angels  framed  in 
ebony  and  velvet.  She  laughed,  and  her  eyes  flashed  saucily. 
"Did  I  keep  you  waiting,  caroviiol"  she  whispered;  and 
standing  on  tiptoe  she  kissed  the  hand  with  which  I  held  my 
cloak  muffled  about  me.  "  How  tall  yon  look  in  that  Almaviva! 
I  am  so  sorry  I  am  a  little  late,  but  that  last  waltz  was  so  ex- 
quisite I  could  not  resist  it ;  only  I  wx'&h.you  had  danced  it  with 

me." 

"  You  honor  me  by  the  wish,"  I  said,  keeping  one  arm  about 
her  waist  and  drawing  her  toward  the  door  that  opened  into 
the  garden.  "  Tell  me,  how  did  you  manage  to  leave  the 
ball-room?" 

"  Oh,  easily.  I  slipped  away  from  my  partner  at  the  end  of 
the  waltz,  and  told  him  I  should  return  immediately.  Then 
I  ran  upstairs  to  my  room,  got  my  cloak— and  here  I  am." 

And  she  laughed  again.     She  was  evidently  in  the  highest 

spirits. 

"  You  are  very  good  to  come  with  me  at  all,  inia  bclla,"  I  mur- 
mured as  gently  as  I  could ;  "  it  is  kind  of  you  to  thus  humor 
my  fancy.  Did  you  see  your  maid?  does  she  know  where  you 
are  going?" 

"  She?  Oh,  no,  she  was  not  in  my  room  at  all.  She  is  a 
great  coquette,  you  know;  I  dare  say  she  is  amusing  herself 
with  the  waiters  in  the  kitchen.  Poor  thing !  I  hope  she  en- 
joys it." 

I  breathed  freely;  we  were  so  far  undiscovered.  No  one 
had  as  yet  noticed  our  departure — no  one  had  the  least  clew 
to  my  intentions.  I  opened  the  door  of  the  passage  noise- 
lessly, and  we  passed  out.  Wrapping  my  wife's  cloak  more 
closely  about  her  with  much  apparent  tenderness,  I  led  her 
quickly  across  the  garden.  There  was  no  one  in  sight — we 
were  entirely  unobserved.  On  reaching  the  exterior  gate  of 
the  inclosure  I  left  her  for  a  moment,  while  I  summoned  a 
carriage,  a  common  fiacre.  She  ^yoressed  some  surprise  on 
seeing  the  vehicle. 


vendetta! 


329 


"I  thought  we  were  not  going  far?"  she  saia. 

I  reassured  her  on  this  point,  telling  her  that  I  only  desired 
to  spare  her  all  possible  fatigue.  Satisfied  with  this  explana- 
tion, she  suffered  me  to  assist  her  into  the  carriage.  I  followed 
her,  and  calling  to  the  driver,  "  A  la  Villa  Guarda,"  we  rattled 
away  over  the  rough  uneven  stones  of  the  back  streets  of  the 
city. 

"  La  Villa  Guarda!"  exclaimed  Nina.     "  Where  is  that?" 

"It  is  an  old  house,"  I  replied,  "situated  near  the  place  I 
spoke  to  you  of,  where  the  jewels  are." 

"Oh!" 

And  apparently  contented,  she  nestled  back  in  the  carriage, 
permitting  her  head  to  rest  lightly  on  my  shoulder.  I  drew 
her  closer  to  me,  my  heart  beating  with  a  fierce,  terrible  joy. 

"Mine — mine  at  last!"  I  whispered  in  her  ear.  "Mine 
forever!" 

She  turned  her  face  upward  and  smiled  victoriously ;  her 
cool  fragrant  lips  met  my  burning,  eager  ones  in  a  close,  pas- 
sionate kiss.  Yes,  I  kissed  her  now — why  should  I  not?  She 
was  as  much  mine  as  any  purchased  slave,  and  merited  less 
respect  than  a  sultan's  occasional  female  toy.  And  as  she 
chose  to  caress  me,  I  let  her  do  so:  I  allowed  her  to  think  me 
utterly  vanquished  by  the  battery  of  her  charms.  Yet  when- 
ever I  caught  an  occasional  glimpse  of  her  face  as  we  drove 
along  in  the  semi-darkness,  I  could  not  help  wondering  at  the 
supreme  vanity  of  the  woman !  Her  self-satisfaction  was  so 
complete,  and,  considering  her  approaching  fate,  so  tragically 
absurd ! 

She  was  entirely  delighted  with  herself,  her  dress,  and  her 
conquest — as  she  thought — of  me.  Who  could  measure  the 
height  of  the  dazzling  visions  she  indulged  in?  who  could 
fathom  the  depths  of  her  utter  selfishness? 

Seeing  one  like  her,  beautiful,  wealthy,  and  above  all — 
society  knows  I  speak  the  truth — tvcU-dressed,  for  by  the  latter 
virtue  alone  is  a  woman  allowed  any  precedence  nowadays — 
would  not  all  the  less  fortunate  and  lovely  of  her  sex  feel  some- 
what envious?  Ah,  yes;  they  would  and  they  do;  but  believe 
me,  the  selfish  feminine  thing,  whose  only  sincere  worship  is 
offered  at  the  shrines  of  Fashion  and  Folly,  is  of  all  creatures 
the  one  whose  life  is  to  be  despised  and  never  desired,  and 
whose  death  makes  no  blank  even  in  the  circles  of  her  so- 
called  best  friends. 


330  vendetta! 

I  knew  well  enough  that  there  was  not  a  soul  in  Naples  who 
was  really  attached  to  my  wife — not  one  who  would  miss  her, 
no,  not  even  a  servant — though  she,  in  her  superb  self-conceit, 
imagined  herself  to  be  the  adored  beauty  of  the  city.  Those 
who  had  indeed  loved  her  she  had  despised,  neglected,  and 
betrayed.  Musingly  I  looked  down  upon  her  as  she  rested 
back  in  the  carriage,  encircled  by  my  arm,  while  now  and 
then  a  little  sigh  of  absolute  delight  in  herself  broke  from  her 
lips — but  we  spoke  scarcely  at  all.  Hate  has  almost  as  little 
to  say  as  love ! 

The  night  was  persistently  stormy,  though  no  rain  fell — the 
gale  had  increased  in  strength,  and  the  white  moon  only  oc- 
casionally glared  out  from  the  masses  of  white  and  gray  cloud 
that  rushed  like  flying  armies  across  the  sky,  and  her  fitful 
light  shone  dimly,  as  though  she  were  a  spectral  torch  glim- 
mering through  a  forest  of  shadow.  Now  and  again  bursts  of 
music,  or  the  blare  of  discordant  trumpets,  reached  our  ears 
from  the  more  distant  thoroughfares  where  the  people  were 
still  celebrating  the  feast  of  Giovedi  Grasso,  or  the  tinkle  of 
passing  mandolines  chimed  in  with  the  rolling  wheels  of  our 
carriage ;  but  in  a  few  moments  we  were  out  of  reach  of  even 
such  sounds  as  these. 

We  passed  the  outer  suburbs  of  the  city  and  were  soon  on 
the  open  road.  The  man  I  had  hired  drove  fast ;  he  knew 
nothing  of  us,  he  was  probably  anxious  to  get  back  quickly  to 
the  crowded  squares  and  illuminated  quarters  where  the  prin- 
cipal merriment  of  the  evening  was  going  on,  and  no  doubt 
thought  I  showed  but  a  poor  taste  in  requiring  to  be  driven 
away,  even  for  a  short  distance,  out  of  Naples  on  such  a  night 
of  feasting  and  folly.  He  stopped  at  last;  the  castellated  tur- 
rets of  the  villa  I  had  named  were  faintly  visible  among  the 
trees ;  he  jumped  down  from  his  box  and  came  to  us. 

"  Shall  I  drive  up  to  the  house?"  he  asked,  looking  as  though 
he  would  rather  be  spared  this  trouble. 

"  No,"  I  answered,  indifferently,  "  you  need  not.  The  dis- 
tance is  short,  we  will  walk." 

And  I  stepped  out  into  the  road  and  paid  him  his  money, 

"You  seem  anxious  to  get  back  to  the  city,  my  friend,"  I 
said,  half  jocosely. 

"  Si  davvero  !  "  he  replied,  with  decision,  "  I  hope  to  get  many 
a  good  fare  from  the  Count  Oliva's  marriage-ball  to-night." 

"Ah!  he  is  a  rich  fellow,  that  count,"  I  said,  as  I  assisted 


vendetta!  331 

my  wife  to  alight,  keeping  her  cloak  well  muffled  round  her 
so  that  this  common  fellow  should  not  perceive  the  glitter  of 
her  costly  costume ;  "  I  wish  I  were  he  !" 

Th«  man  grinned  and  nodded  emphatically.  He  had  no 
suspicion  of  my  identity.  He  took  me,  in  all  probability,  for 
one  of  those  "  gay  gallants"  so  common  in  Naples,  who,  on 
finding  at  some  public  entertainment  a  "  daina"  to  their  taste, 
hurry  her  off,  carefully  cloaked  and  hooded,  to  a  mysterious 
nook  known  only  to  themselves,  where  they  can  complete  the 
romance  of  the  evening  entirely  to  their  own  satisfaction. 
Bidding  me  a  lively  buotia  notte,  he  sprung  on  his  box  again, 
jerked  his  horse's  head  violently  round  with  a  volley  of  oaths, 
and  drove  away  at  a  rattling  pace.  Nina,  standing  on  the  road 
beside  me,  looked  after  him  with  a  bewildered  air. 

"  Could  he  not  have  waited  to  take  us  back?"  she  asked. 

"  No,"  I  answered,  brusquely;  "  we  shall  return  by  a  differ- 
ent route.     Come." 

And  passing  my  arm  round  her,  I  led  her  onward.  She 
shivered  slightly,  and  there  was  a  sound  of  querulous  com- 
plaint in  her  voice  as  she  said: 

"  Have  we  to  go  much  further,  Cesare?" 

"Three  minutes'  walk  will  bring  us  to  our  destination,"  I 
rephed,  briefly,  adding  in  a  softer  tone,  "  Are  you  cold?" 

"A  little,"  and  she  gathered  her  sables  more  closely  about 
her  and  pressed  nearer  to  my  side.  The  capricious  moon 
here  suddenly  leaped  forth  like  the  pale  ghost  of  a  frenzied 
dancer,  standing  tiptoe  on  the  edge  of  a  precipitous  chasm  of 
black  clouds.  Her  rays,  pallidly  green  and  gold,  fell  full  on 
the  dreary  stretch  of  land  before  us,  touching  up  with  lumi- 
nous distinctness  those  white  mysterious  mile-stones  of  the 
Campo  Santo  which  mark  where  the  journeys  of  men,  women, 
and  children  began  and  where  they  left  off,  but  never  explain 
in  what  new  direction  they  are  now  traveling.  My  wife  saw 
and  stopped,  trembling  violently. 

"  What  place  is  this?"  she  asked,  nervously. 

In  all  her  life  she  had  never  visited  a  cemetery — she  had  too 
great  a  horror  of  death. 

"  It  is  where  I  keep  all  my  treasures,"  I  answered,  and  my 
voice  sounded  strange  and  harsh  in  my  own  ears,  while  I 
tightened  my  grasp  of  her  full,  warm  waist.  "  Come  with  me, 
my  beloved!"  and  in  spite  of  my  efforts,  my  tone  was  one  of 
bitter  mockery.     "With  me  you  need  have  no  fear!    Come!" 


332  vendetta! 

And  I  led  her  on,  too  powerless  to  resist  my  force,  too 
startled  to  speak — on,  on,  on,  over  the  rank  dewy  grass  and 
unmarked  ancient  graves — on,  till  the  low  frowning  gate  of 
the  house  of  my  dead  ancestors  faced  me — on,  on,  on,  with  the 
strength  of  ten  devils  in  my  arm  as  I  held  her — on,  on,  on,  to 
her  just  doom ! 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

The  moon  had  retreated  behind  a  dense  wall  of  cloud,  and 
the  landscape  was  enveloped  in  semi-darkness.  Reaching  the 
door  of  the  vault,  I  unlocked  it ;  it  opened  instantly,  and  fell 
back  with  a  sudden  clang.  She  whom  I  held  fast  with  my 
iron  grip  shrunk  back,  and  strove  to  release  herself  from  my 
grasp. 

"  Where  are  you  going?"  she  demanded,  in  a  faint  tone.  "  I 
• — I  am  afraid !" 

"  Of  what?"  I  asked,  endeavoring  to  control  the  passion- 
ate vibrations  of  my  voice  and  to  speak  unconcernedly. 
"Because  it  is  dark?  We  shall  have  light  directly — you  will 
see — you — you,"  and  to  my  own  surprise  I  broke  into  a  loud 
and  violent  laugh.  "You  have  no  cause  to  be  frightened! 
Come!" 

And  I  lifted  her  swiftly  and  easily  over  the  stone  step  of  the 
entrance  and  set  her  safely  inside.  Inside  at  last,  thank 
Heaven!  I  shut  the  great  gate  upon  us  both  and  locked  it! 
Again  that  strange  undesired  laugh  broke  from  my  lips  in- 
voluntarily, and  the  echoes  of  the  charnel  house  responded  to 
it  with  unearthly  and  ghastly  distinctness.  Nina  clung  to  me 
in  the  dense  gloom. 

"  Why  do  you  laugh  like  that?"  she  cried,  loudly  and  im- 
patiently.    "  It  sounds  horrible." 

I  checked  myself  by  a  strong  effort. 

"Does  it?  I  am  sorry — very  sorry!  I  laugh  because — be- 
cause, cara  mia,  our  moonlight  ramble  is  so  pleasant — and 
amusing — is  it  not?" 

And  I  caught  her  to  my  heart  and  kissed  her  roughly. 

"  Now,"  I  whispered,  "  I  will  carry  you — the  steps  are  too 
rough  for  your  little  feet — dear,  dainty,  white  little  feet!  I 
will  carry  you,  you  armful  of  sweetness ! — yes,  carry  you  safely 


VENDETTA\ 


333 


down  into  the  fairy  grotto  where  the  jewels  are — such  jewels, 
and  all  for  you — my  love,  my  wife !" 

And  I  raised  her  from  the  ground  as  though  she  were  a 
young,  frail  child.  Whether  she  tried  to  resist  me  or  not  I  can 
not  now  remember.  I  bore  her  down  the  moldering  stairway, 
setting  my  foot  on  each  crooked  step  with  the  firmness  of  one 
long  familiar  with  the  place.  But  my  brain  reeled — rings  of 
red  fire  circled  in  the  darkness  before  my  eyes;  every  artery 
in  my  body  seemed  strained  to  bursting;  the  pent-up  agony 
and  fury  of  my  soul  were  such  that  I  thought  I  should  go  mad 
or  drop  down  dead  ere  I  gained  the  end  of  my  long  desire. 
As  I  descended  I  felt  her  clinging  to  me ;  her  hands  were  cold 
and  clammy  on  my  neck,  as  though  she  were  chilled  to  the 
blood  with  terror.  At  last  I  reached  the  lowest  step— I 
touched  the  floor  of  the  vault.  I  set  my  precious  burden  down. 
Releasing  my  clasp  of  her,  I  remained  for  a  moment  inactive, 
breathing  heavily.  She  caught  my  arm — she  spoke  in  a  hoarse 
whisper. 

"  What  place  is  this?    Where  is  the  light  you  spoke  of?" 

I  made  no  answer.  I  moved  from  her  side,  and  taking 
matches  from  my  pocket,  I  lighted  up  six  large  candles  which 
I  had  fixed  in  various  corners  of  the  vault  the  night  previously. 
Dazzled  by  the  glare  after  the  intense  darkness,  she  did  not  at 
once  perceive  the  nature  of  the  place  in  which  she  stood.  I 
watched  her,  myself  still  wrapped  in  the  heavy  cloak  and  hat 
that  so  effectually  disguised  my  features.  What  a  sight  she 
was  in  that  abode  of  corruption !  Lovely,  delicate,  and  full 
of  life,  with  the  shine  of  her  diamonds  gleaming  from  under 
the  folds  of  rich  fur  that  shrouded  her,  and  the  dark  hood  fall- 
1  ing  back  as  though  to  display  the  sparkling  wonder  of  her 
gold  hair. 

Suddenly,  and  with  a  violent  shock,  she  realized  the  gloom 
of  her  surroundings — the  yellow  flare  of  the  waxen  torches 
showed  her  the  stone  niches,  the  tattered  palls,  the  decaying 
trophies  of  armor,  the  drear  shapes  of  worm-eaten  coffins,  and 
with  a  shriek  of  horror  she  rushed  to  me  where  I  stood,  as 
immovable  as  a  statue  clad  in  coat  of  mail,  and  throwing  her 
arms  about  me  clung  to  me  in  a  frenzy  of  fear. 

"  Take  me  away,  take  me  away !"  she  moaned,  hiding  her 
face  against  my  breast.  "  'Tis  a  vault— oh,  Santissima  Ma- 
donna!— a  place  for  the  dead!  Quick — quick!  take  me  out  to 
the  air — let  us  go  home — home — " 


334  vendetta! 

She  broke  off  abruptly,  her  alarm  increasing-  at  my  utter 
silence.     She  gazed  up  at  me  with  wild  wet  eyes. 

"Cesare!  Cesare!  speak!  What  ails  you?  Why  have  you 
brought  me  here?  Touch  me — kiss  me!  say  something — any- 
thing— only  speak !" 

And  her  bosom  heaved  convulsively ;  she  sobbed  with  terror. 

I  put  her  from  me  with  a  firm  hand.  I  spoke  in  measured 
accents,  tinged  with  some  contempt. 

"  Hush,  I  pray  you !  This  is  no  place  for  an  hysterical  scena. 
Consider  where  you  are !  You  have  guessed  aright — this  is  a 
vault — your  own  mausoleum,  fair  lady! — if  I  mistake  not — the 
burial-place  of  the  Romani  family." 

At  these  words  her  sobs  ceased,  as  though  they  had  been 
frozen  in  her  throat;  she  stared  at  me  in  speechless  fear  and 
wonder. 

"  Here,"  I  went  on  with  methodical  deliberation,  "  here  lie 
all  the  great  ancestors  of  your  husband's  family,  heroes  and 
martyrs  in  their  day.  Here  will  your  own  fair  flesh  molder. 
Here,"  and  my  voice  grew  deeper  and  more  resolute,  "here, 
six  months  ago,  your  husband  himself,  Fabio  Romani,  was 
buried." 

She  uttered  no  sound,  but  gazed  at  me  like  some  beautiful 
pagan  goddess  turned  to  stone  by  the  Furies.  Having  spoken 
thus  far  I  was  silent,  watching  the  effect  of  what  I  had  said, 
for  I  sought  to  torture  the  very  nerves  of  her  base  soul.  At 
last  her  dry  lips  parted — her  voice  was  hoarse  and  indistinct. 

"  You  must  be  mad !"  she  said,  with  smothered  anger  and 
horror  in  her  tone. 

Then  seeing  me  still  immovable,  she  advanced  and  caught 
my  hand  half  commandingly,  half  coaxingly.  I  did  not  resist 
her. 

"Come,"  she  implored,  "come  away  at  once!"  and  she 
glanced  about  her  with  a  shudder.  "  Let  us  leave  this  horrible 
place;  as  for  the  jewels,  if  you  keep  them  here,  they  may  stay 
here;  I  would  not  wear  them  for  the  world!     Come." 

I  interrupted  her,  holding  her  hand  in  a  fierce  grasp;  I 
turned  her  abruptly  toward  a  dark  object  lying  on  the  ground 
near  us — my  own  coffin  broken  asunder.  I  drew  her  close 
to  it. 

"Look!"  I  said  in  a  thrilling  whisper,  "what  is  this?  Ex- 
amine it  well:  it  is  a  coffin  of  flimsiest  wood,  a  cholera  coffin! 
What  says  the  painted  inscription?    Nay,  do  not  start!    It 


vendetta!  335 

bears  your  husband's  name;  he  was  buried  in  it.  Then  how 
comes  it  to  be  open?     Where  is  he  ?  " 

I  felt  her  sway  under  me;  a  new  and  overwhelming  terror 
had  taken  instant  possession  of  her,  her  limbs  refused  to  sup- 
port her,  she  sunk  on  her  knees.  Mechanically  and  feebly  she 
repeated  the  words  after  me — 

"  IVhere  is  he  ?     Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  Ay!"  and  my  voice  rang  out  through  the  hollow  vault,  its 
passion  restrained  no  more.  "  Where  is  he?—th(i  poor  fool,  the 
miserable,  credulous  dupe,  whose  treacherous  wife  played  the 
courtesan  under  his  very  roof,  while  he  loved  and  blindly 
trusted  her!  Where  is  he 2  Here,  here!"  and  I  seized  her 
hands  and  forced  her  up  from  her  kneeling  posture.  "  I  prom- 
ised you  should  see  me  as  I  am!  I  swore  to  grow  young  to- 
night for  your  sake —  Now  I  keep  my  word !  Look  at  me, 
Nina!— look  at  me,  my  twice-wedded  wife ! —  Look  at  me ! — 
do  you  not  know  your  husband V" 

And  throwing  my  dark  habiliments  from  me,  I  stood  before 
her  undisguised !  As  though  some  defacing  disease  had  swept 
over  her  at  my  words  and  look,  so  her  beauty  suddenly  van- 
ished. Her  face  became  drawn  and  pinched,  and  almost  old 
— her  lips  turned  blue,  her  eyes  grew  glazed,  and  strained 
themselves  from  their  sockets  to  stare  at  me ;  her  very  hands 
looked  thin  and  ghost-like  as  she  raised  them  upward  with  a 
frantic  appealing  gesture ;  there  was  a  sort  of  gasping  rattle 
in  her  throat  as  she  drew  herself  away  from  me  with  a  con- 
vulsive gesture  of  aversion,  and  crouched  on  the  floor  as 
though  she  sought  to  sink  through  it  and  thus  avoid  my  gaze. 

"Oh,  no,  no,  no!"  she  moaned,  wildly,  "not  Fabio! — no,  it 
I  can  not  be — Fabio  is  dead — dead !  And  you ! — you  are  mad ! 
— this  is  some  cruel  jest  of  yours — some  trick  to  frighten 
me!" 

She  broke  off  breathlessly,  and  her  large,  terrified  eyes 
wandered  to  mine  again  with  a  reluctant  and  awful  wonder. 
She  attempted  to  arise  from  her  crouching  position;  I  ap- 
proached, and  assisted  her  to  do  so  with  ceremonious  polite- 
ness. She  trembled  violently  at  my  touch,  and  slowly 
staggering  to  her  feet,  she  pushed  back  her  hair  from  her 
forehead  and  regarded  me  fixedly  with  a  searching,  anguished 
look,  first  of  doubt,  then  of  dread,  and  lastly  of  convinced  and 
hopeless  certainty,  for  she  suddenly  covered  her  eyes  with  her 
hands  as  though  to  shut  out  some  repulsive  object,  and  broke 


336  vendetta! 

into  a  low  wailing  sound  like  that  of  one  in  bitter  physical 
pain.     I  laughed  scornfully. 

"  Well,  do  you  know  mc  at  last?"  I  cried.  "  'Tis  true  I  have 
somewhat  altered.  This  hair  of  mine  was  black,  if  you  re- 
member— it  is  white  enough  now,  blanched  by  the  horrors  of 
a  living  death  such  as  you  can  not  imagine,  but  which,"  and  I 
spoke  more  slowly  and  impressively,  "  you  may  possibly  ex- 
perience ere  long.  Yet  in  spite  of  this  change  I  think  you 
know  me !  That  is  well,  I  am  glad  your  memory  serves  you 
thus  far !" 

A  low  sound  that  was  half  a  sob  and  half  a  cry  broke  from 
her. 

"  Oh,  no,  no !"  she  muttered,  again,  incoherently — "  it  can 
not  be !  It  must  be  false — it  is  some  vile  plot — it  can  not  be 
true!  True!  Oh,  Heaven!  it  would  be  too  cruel,  too 
horrible !" 

I  strode  up  to  her.  I  drew  her  hands  away  from  her  eyes 
and  grasped  them  tightly  in  my  own. 

"  Hear  me !"  I  said,  in  clear,  decisive  tones.  "  I  have  kept 
silence,  God  knows,  with  a  long  patience,  but  now — now  I  can 
speak.  Yes!  you  thought  me  dead — you  had  every  reason  to 
think  so,  you  had  every  proof  to  believe  so.  How  happy  my 
supposed  death  made  you !  "What  a  relief  it  was  to  you ! — 
what  an  obstruction  removed  from  your  path!  But — I  was 
buried  alive  !"  She  uttered  a  faint  shriek  of  terror,  and  look- 
ing wildly  about  her,  strove  to  wrench  her  hands  from  my 
clasp.  I  held  them  more  closely.  "  Ay,  think  of  it,  wife  of 
mine ! — you  to  whom  luxury  has  been  second  nature,  think  of 
this  poor  body  straightened  in  a  helpless  swoon,  packed  and 
pressed  into  yonder  cofHn  and  nailed  up  fast,  shut  out  from 
the  blessed  light  and  air,  as  one  would  have  thought,  forever! 
Who  could  have  dreamed  that  life  still  lingered  in  me — life 
strong  enough  to  split  asunder  the  boards  that  inclosed  me, 
and  leave  them  shattered,  as  you  see  them  now!" 

She  shuddered  and  glanced  with  aversion  toward  the  broken 
coffin,  and  again  tried  to  loosen  her  hands  from  mine.  She 
looked  at  me  with  a  burning  anger  in  her  face. 

"  Let  me  go !"  she  panted.     "  Madman !  liar ! — let  me  go !" 

I  released  her  instantly  and  stood  erect,  regarding  her 
fixedly. 

"  I  am  no  madman,"  I  said,  composedly;  "  and  you  know  as 
well  as  I  do  that  I  speak  the  truth.     When  I  escaped  from  that 


vendetta!  337 

coffin  I  found  myself  a  prisoner  in  this  very  vault — this  house 
of  my  perished  ancestry,  where,  if  old  legends  could  be  be- 
lieved, the  very  bones  that  are  stored  up  here  would  start  and 
recoil  from  your  presence  as  pollution  to  the  dead,  whose  creed 
was  honor." 

The  sound  of  her  sobbing  breath  ceased  suddenly;  she  fixed 
her  eyes  on  mine;  they  glittered  defiantly. 

"  For  one  long  awful  night,"  I  resumed,  "  I  suffered  here. 
I  might  have  starved — or  perished  of  thirst.  I  thought  no 
agony  could  surpass  what  I  endured!  But  I  was  mistaken: 
there  was  a  sharper  torment  in  store  for  me.  I  discovered  a 
way  of  escape ;  with  grateful  tears  I  thanked  God  for  my  res- 
cue, for  liberty,  for  life !  Oh,  what  a  fool  was  I !  How  could 
I  dream  that  my  death  was  so  desired ! — how  could  I  know 
that  I  had  better  far  have  died  than  have  returned  to  such  a 
home !" 

Her  lips  moved,  but  she  uttered  no  word ;  she  shivered  as 
though  with  intense  cold.     I  drew  nearer  to  her. 

"  Perhaps  you  doubt  my  story?" 

She  made  no  answer.  A  rapid  impulse  of  fury  possessed 
me. 

"  Speak !"  I  cried,  fiercely,  "  or  by  the  God  above  us  I  will 
viake  you !  Speak !"  and  I  drew  the  dagger  I  carried  from  my 
vest.  "  Speak  the  truth  for  once — 'twill  be  difficult  to  you 
who  love  lies — but  this  time  I  must  be  answered!  Tell  me,  do 
you  know  me?  Do  you  or  do  you  not  believe  that  I  am  indeed 
your  husband — your  living  husband,  Fabio  Romani?" 

She  gasped  for  breath.  The  sight  of  my  infuriated  figure — 
the  glitter  of  the  naked  steel  before  her  eyes — the  suddenness 
of  my  action,  the  horror  of  her  position,  all  terrified  her  into 
speech.  She  flung  herself  down  before  me  in  an  attitude  of 
abject  entreaty.     She  found  her  voice  at  last. 

"Mercy!  mercy!"  she  cried.  "Oh,  God!  you  will  not  kill 
me?  Anything— anything  but  death ;  I  am  too  young  to  die! 
Yes,  yes;  I  know  you  are  Fabio— Fabio,  my  husband,  Fabio, 
whom  I  thought  dead— Fabio— oh !"  and  she  sobbed  convul- 
sively. "  You  said  you  loved  me  to-day — when  you  married 
me!  Why  did  you  marry  me?  I  was  your  wife  already — 
why— why?  Oh,  horrible,  horrible!  I  see— I  understand  it 
all  now !  But  do  not,  do  not  kill  me,  Fabio— I  am  afraid  to 
die  I" 

And  she  hid  her  face  at  my  feet  and  groveled  there.     As 


338  vendetta! 

quickly  calmed  as  I  had  been  suddenly  furious,  I  put  back  the 
dagger.  I  smoothed  my  voice  and  spoke  with  mocking 
courtesy. 

"  Pray  do  not  alarm  yourself,"  I  said,  coolly.  "  I  have  not 
the  slightest  intention  of  killing  you !  I  am  no  vulgar  mur- 
derer, yielding  to  mere  brute  instincts.  You  forget :  a  Nea- 
politan has  hot  passions,  but  he  also  has  ^finesse,  especially  in 
matters  of  vengeance.  I  brought  you  here  to  tell  you  of  my 
existence,  and  to  confront  you  with  the  proofs  of  it.  Rise,  I 
beg  of  you,  we  have  plenty  of  time  to  talk;  with  a  little 
patience  I  shall  make  things  clear  to  you — rise !" 

She  obeyed  me,  lifting  herself  up  reluctantly  with  a  long, 
shuddering  sigh.  As  she  stood  upright  I  laughed  contemptu- 
ously. 

"  What!  no  love  words  for  me?"  I  cried,  "  not  one  kiss,  not 
one  smile,  not  one  word  of  welcome?  You  say  you  know  me 
— well! — are  you  not  glad  to  see  your  husband? — you,  who 
were  such  an  inconsolable  widow?" 

A  strange  quiver  passed  over  her  face — she  wrung  her  hands 
together  hard,  but  she  said  no  word. 

"  Listen !"  I  said,  "  there  is  more  to  tell.  When  I  broke  loose 
from  the  grasp  of  death,  when  I  came  /lome — I  found  my 
vacant  post  already  occupied.  I  arrived  in  time  to  witness  a 
very  pretty  pastoral  play.  The  scene  was  the  ilex  avenue — 
the  actors,  you,  my  wife,  and  Guido,  my  friend !" 

She  raised  her  head  and  uttered  a  low  exclamation  of  fear. 
I  advanced  a  step  or  two  and  spoke  more  rapidly. 

"  You  hear?  There  was  moonlight,  and  the  song  of  nightin- 
gales— yes;  the  stage  effects  were  perfect.  /  watched  the 
progress  of  the  comedy — with  what  emotions  you  may  im- 
agine. I  learned  much  that  was  news  to  me.  I  became  aware 
that  for  a  lady  of  your  large  heart  and  sensitive  feelings  one  hus- 
band was  not  sufficient" — here  I  laid  my  hand  on  her  shoulder 
and  gazed  into  her  face,  while  her  eyes,  dilated  with  terror, 
stared  hopelessly  up  to  mine — "  and  that  within  three  little 
months  of  your  marriage  to  me  you  provided  yourself  with 
another.  Nay,  no  denial  can  serve  you !  Guido  Ferrari  was 
husband  to  you  in  all  things  but  the  name.  I  mastered  the 
situation — I  rose  to  the  emergency.  Trick  for  trick,  comedy 
for  comedy !  You  know  the  rest.  As  the  Count  Oliva  you 
can  not  deny  that  I  acted  well !  For  the  second  time  I  courted 
you,  but  not  half  so  eagerly  as  you  courted  me  !    For  the  second 


vendetta!  339 

time  I  have  married  you !  Who  shall  deny  that  you  are  most 
thoroughly  mine — mine,  body  and  soul,  till  death  do  us  part!" 

And  I  loosened  my  grasp  of  her;  she  writhed  from  me  like 
some  glittering  wounded  serpent.  The  tears  had  dried  on  her 
cheeks,  her  features  were  rigid  and  wax-like  as  the  features 
of  a  corpse;  only  her  dark  eyes  shone,  and  these  seemed  pre- 
tematurally  large,  and  gleamed  with  an  evil  luster.  I  moved 
a  little  away,  and  turning  my  own  coffin  on  its  side,  I  sat  down 
upon  it  as  indifferently  as  though  it  were  an  easy-chair  in  a 
drawing-room.  Glancing  at  her  then,  I  saw  a  wavering  light 
upon  her  face.  Some  idea  had  entered  into  her  mind.  She 
moved  gradually  from  the  wall  where  she  leaned,  watching 
me  fearfully  as  she  did  so.  I  made  no  attempt  to  stir  from 
the  seat  I  occupied. 

Slowly,  slowly,  still  keeping  her  eyes  on  me,  she  glided  step 
by  step  onward  and  passed  me — then  with  a  sudden  rush  she 
reached  the  stairway  and  bounded  up  it  with  the  startled  haste 
of  a  hunted  deer.  I  smiled  to  myself.  I  heard  her  shaking  the 
iron  gate-way  to  and  fro  with  all  her  feeble  strength;  she 
called  aloud  for  help  several  times.  Only  the  sullen  echoes 
of  the  vault  answered  her,  and  the  wild  whistle  of  the  wind 
as  it  surged  through  the  trees  of  the  cemetery.  At  last  she 
screamed  furiously,  as  a  savage  cat  might  scream — the  rustle 
of  her  silken  robes  came  swiftly  sweeping  down  the  steps,  and 
with  a  spring  like  that  of  a  young  tigress  she  confronted  me, 
the  blood  now  burning  wrathfully  in  her  face,  and  transform- 
ing it  back  to  something  of  its  old  beauty. 

"  Unlock  that  door!"  she  cried,  with  a  furious  stamp  of  her 
foot.  "Assassin!  traitor!  I  hate  you!  I  always  hated  you  I 
Unlock  the  door,  I  tell  you !  You  dare  not  disobey  me ;  you 
have  no  right  to  murder  me  !" 

I  looked  at  her  coldly ;  the  torrent  of  her  words  was  sud- 
denly checked,  something  in  my  expression  daunted  her;  she 
trembled  and  shrunk  back. 

"No  right!"  I  said,  mockingly.  "I  differ  from  you  I  A 
man  once  married  has  some  right  over  his  wife,  but  a  man  twice 
married  to  the  same  woman  has  surely  gained  a  double 
authority !  And  as  for  'dare  not!  '  there  is  nothing  I  'dare  not' 
do  to-night." 

And  with  that  I  rose  and  approached  her.  A  torrent  of  pas- 
sionate indignation  boiled  in  my  veins;  I  seized  her  two  white 
arms  and  held  her  fast. 


340  VENDETTA r 

"  You  talk  of  murder !"  I  muttered,  fiercely.  "  Ybu — ^you 
who  have  remorselessly  murdered  two  men !  Their  blood  be 
on  your  head !  For  though  I  live,  I  am  but  the  moving  corpse 
of  the  man  I  was — hope,  faith,  happiness,  peace — all  things 
good  and  great  in  me  have  been  slain  by  you.  And  as  for 
Guido— " 

She  interrupted  me  with  a  wild  sobbing  cry. 

"  He  loved  me !     Guido  loved  me !" 

"  Ay,  he  loved  you,  oh,  devil  in  the  shape  of  a  woman !  he 
loved  you !  Come  here,  here !"  and  in  a  fury  I  could  not  re- 
strain I  dragged  her,  almost  lifted  her  along  to  one  corner  of 
the  vault,  where  the  light  of  the  torches  scarcely  illumined 
the  darkness,  and  there  I  pointed  upward.  "  Above  our  very 
heads — to  the  left  of  where  we  stand — the  brave  strong  body 
of  your  lover  lies,  festering  slowly  in  the  wet  mold,  thanks  to 
you ! — the  fair,  gallant  beauty  of  it  all  marred  by  the  red- 
mouthed  worms — the  thick  ciirls  of  hair  combed  through  by 
the  crawling  feet  of  vile  insects — the  poor  frail  heart  pierced 
by  a  gaping  wound — " 

"You  killed  him;  you — you  are  to  blame,"  she  moaned, 
restlessly,  striving  to  turn  her  face  away  from  me. 

"/  killed  him?  No,  no,  not  I,  but  you/  He  died  when  he 
learned  your  treachery — when  he  knew  you  were  false  to  him 
for  the  sake  of  wedding  a  supposed  wealthy  stranger — my 
pistol-shot  but  put  him  out  of  torment.  You!  you  were  glad 
of  his  death — as  glad  as  when  you  thought  of  mine !  You  talk 
of  murder !  Oh,  vilest  among  women !  if  I  could  murder  you 
twenty  times  over,  what  then?  Your  sins  outweigh  all 
punishment!" 

And  I  flung  her  from  me  with  a  gesture  of  contempt  and 
loathing.  This  time  my  words  had  struck  home.  She  cow- 
ered before  me  in  horror — her  sables  were  loosened  and 
scarcely  protected  her,  the  richness  of  her  ball  costume  was 
fully  displayed,  and  the  diamonds  on  her  bosom  heaved  rest- 
lessly up  and  down  as  she  panted  with  excitement,  rage  and 
fear. 

"  I  do  not  see,"  she  muttered,  sullenly,  "  why  you  should 
blame  me  !     I  am  no  worse  than  other  women!" 

"  No  worse !  no  worse !"  I  cried.  "  Shame,  shame  upon  you 
that  thus  outrage  your  sex !  Learn  for  once  what  7nen  think 
of  unfaithful  wives — for  may  be  you  are  ignorant.  The  novels 
you  have  read  in  your  luxurious,  idle  hours  have  perha.ps  told 


VENDETTA!  34 1 

you  that  infidelity  is  no  sin — merely  a  little  social  error  easily 
condoned,  or  set  right  by  the  divorce  court.  Yes!  modern 
books  and  modern  plays  teach  you  so :  in  them  the  world 
swerves  upside  down,  and  vice  looks  like  virtue.  But  /will 
tell  you  what  will  seem  to  you  a  strange  and  wonderful  thing! 
There  is  no  mean  animal,  no  loathsome  object,  no  horrible 
deformity  of  nature  so  utterly  repulsive  to  a  true  man  as  a 
faithless  wife !  The  cowardly  murderer  who  lies  in  wait  for 
his  victim  behind  some  dark  door,  and  stabs  him  in  the  back 
as  he  passes  by  unarmed — he,  I  say,  is  more  to  be  pardoned 
than  the  woman  who  takes  a  husband's  name,  honor,  position, 
and  reputation  among  his  fellows,  and  sheltering  herself  with 
these,  passes  her  beauty  promiscuously  about  like  some  coarse 
article  of  commerce,  that  goes  to  the  highest  bidder!  Ay,  let 
your  French  novels  and  books  of  their  type  say  what  they  will 
— infidelity  is  a  crime,  a  low,  brutal  crime,  as  bad  if  not  worse 
than  murder,  and  deserves  as  stern  a  sentence !" 

A  sudden  spirit  of  defiant  insolence  possessed  her.  She 
drew  herself  erect,  and  her  level  brows  knitted  in  a  dark  frown. 

"  Sentence !"  she  exclaimed,  imperiously.  "  How  dare  you 
judge  me!  What  harm  have  I  done?  If  I  am  beautiful,  is 
that  my  fault?  If  men  are  fools,  can  /  help  it?  You  loved 
me — Guido  loved  me — could  /  prevent  it?  I  cared  nothing 
for  him,  and  less  for  you!" 

"  I  know  it,"  I  said,  bitterly.  "  Love  was  never  part  of  your 
nature !  Our  lives  were  but  cups  of  wine  for  your  false  lips 
to  drain ;  once  the  flavor  pleased  you,  but  now — now,  think 
you  not  the  dregs  taste  somewhat  cold?" 

She  shrunk  at  my  glance — her  head  drooped,  and  drawing 
near  a  projecting  stone  in  the  wall,  she  sat  down  upon  it, 
pressing  one  hand  to  her  heart. 

"No,  heart,  no  conscience,  no  memory!"  I  cried.  "Great 
Heaven  I  that  such  a  thing  should  live  and  call  itself  woman ! 
The  lowest  beast  of  the  field  has  more  compassion  for  its  kind ! 
Listen:  before  Guido  died  he  knew  me,  even  as  my  child, 
neglected  by  you,  in  her  last  agony  knew  her  father.  She 
being  innocent,  passed  in  peace ;  but  he ! — imagine  if  you  can, 
the  wrenching  torture  in  which  he  perished,  knowing  alii 
How  his  parted  spirit  must  curse  you!" 

She  raised  her  hands  to  her  head  and  pushed  away  the  light 
curls  from  her  brow.  There  was  a  starving,  hunted,  almost 
furious  look  in  her  eyes,  but  she  fixed  them  steadily  on  me. 


342  vendetta! 

"  See,"  I  went  on — "  here  are  more  proofs  of  the  truth  of  my 
story.  These  things  were  buried  with  me,"  and  I  threw  into 
her  lap  as  she  sat  before  me  the  locket  and  chain,  the  card-case 
and  purse  she  herself  had  given  me.  "  You  will  no  doubt 
recognize  them.  This" — and  I  showed  her  the  monk's  crucifix 
— "  this  was  laid  on  my  breast  in  the  coffin.  It  may  be  useful 
to  you — you  can  pray  to  it  presently !" 

She  interrupted  me  with  a  gesture  of  her  hand ;  she  spoke 
as  though  in  a  dream. 

"  You  escaped  from  this  vault?"  she  said,  in  a  low  tone, 
looking  from  right  to  left  with  searching  eagerness.  "  Tell 
me  how — and — where?" 

I  laughed  scornfully,  guessing  her  thoughts. 

"  It  matters  little,"  I  replied.  "  The  passage  I  discovered  is 
now  closed  and  fast  cemented.  I  have  seen  to  that  myself! 
No  other  living  creature  left  here  can  escape  as  I  did.  Escape 
is  impossible." 

A  stifled  cry  broke  from  her;  she  threw  herself  at  my  feet, 
letting  the  things  I  had  given  her  as  proofs  of  my  existence 
fall  heedlessly  on  the  floor. 

"  Fabio !  Fabio !"  she  cried,  "  save  me,  pity  me !  Take  me 
out  to  the  light — the  air — let  me  live!  Drag  me  through 
Naples — let  all  the  crowd  see  me  dishonored,  brand  me  with 
the  worst  of  names,  make  of  me  a  common  outcast — only  let 
me  feel  the  warm  life  throbbing  in  my  veins !  I  will  do  any- 
thing, say  anything,  be  anything — only  let  me  live !  I  loath 
the  cold  and  darkness — the  horrible — horrible  ways  of  death  I" 
She  shuddered  violently  and  clung  to  me  afresh.  "  I  am  so 
young!  and  after  all,  am  I  so  vile?  There  are  women  who 
count  their  lovers  by  the  score,  and  yet  they  are  not  blamed; 
why  should  I  suffer  more  than  they?" 

"  Why,  why?"  I  echoed,  fiercely,  "  Because  for  once  a  hus- 
band takes  the  law  into  his  own  hands — for  once  a  wronged 
man  insists  on  justice — for  once  he  dares  to  punish  the  treach- 
ery that  blackens  his  honor!  Were  there  more  like  me  there 
would  be  fewer  like  you!  A  score  of  lovers!  'Tis  not  your 
fault  that  you  had  but  one!  I  have  something  else  to  say 
which  concerns  you.  Not  content  with  fooling  two  men,  you 
tried  the  same  amusement  on  a  supposed  third.  Ay,  you 
wince  at  that!  While  you  thought  me  to  be  the  Count  Oliva 
^-while  you  were  betrothed  to  me  in  that  character,  you  wrote 
to  Guido  F<$rrari  in  Rom^    Ve.rv  charming  letters!  here  they 


vendetta!  343 

are,"  and  I  flung  them  down  to  her.     "  I  have  no  further  use 
for  them — I  have  read  them  all !" 

She  let  them  lie  where  they  fell;  she  still  crouched  at  my 
feet,  and  her  restless  movements  loosened  her  cloak  so  far 
that  it  hung  back  from  her  shoulders,  showing  the  jewels  that 
flashed  on  her  white  neck  and  arms  like  points  of  living  light. 
I  touched  the  circlet  of  diamonds  in  her  hair — I  snatched  it 
from  her. 

"  These  are  mine  !"  I  cried,  "  as  much  as  this  signet  I  wear, 
which  was  your  love-gift  to  Guido  Ferrari,  and  which  you 
afterward  returned  to  me,  its  rightful  owner.  These  are  my 
mother's  gems — how  dared  you  wear  them?  The  stones  / 
gave  you  are  your  only  fitting  ornaments — they  are  stolen 
goods,  filched  by  the  blood-stained  hands  of  the  blackest 
brigand  in  Sicily!  I  promised  you  more  like  them;  behold 
them !" — and  I  threw  open  the  coffin-shaped  chest  containing 
the  remainder  of  Carmelo  Neri's  spoils.  It  occupied  a  con- 
spicuous position  near  where  I  stood,  and  I  had  myself 
arranged  its  interior  so  that  the  gold  ornaments  and  precious 
stones  should  be  the  first  things  to  meet  her  eyes.  "  You  see 
now,"  I  went  on,  "where  the  wealth  of  the  supposed  Count 
Oliva  came  from,  I  found  this  treasure  hidden  here  on  the 
night  of  my  burial— little  did  I  think  then  what  dire  need  I 
should  have  for  its  usage  !  It  has  served  me  well ;  it  is  not  yet 
exhausted;  the  remainder  is  at  your  service!" 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

At  these  words  she  rose  from  her  knees  and  stood  upright. 
Making  an  effort  to  fasten  her  cloak  with  her  trembling  hands, 
she  moved  hesitatingly  toward  the  brigand's  coffin  and  leaned 
over  it,  looking  in  with  a  faint  light  of  hope  as  well  as  curiosity 
in  her  haggard  face.  I  watched  her  in  vague  wonderment — 
she  had  grown  old  so  suddenly.  The  peach-like  bloom  and 
delicacy  of  her  flesh  had  altogether  disappeared — her  skin 
appeared  drawn  and  dry  as  though  parched  in  tropical  heat. 
Her  hair  was  disordered,  and  fell  about  her  in  clustering 
showers  of  gold — that,  and  her  eyes,  were  the  only  signs  of 
youth  about  her.  A  sudden  wave  of  compassion  swept  over 
my  soul, 


344  vendetta! 

"  Oh,  wife !"  I  exclaimed — "  wife  that  I  so  ardently  loved^ 
wife  that  I  would  have  died  for  indeed,  had  you  bade  me ! — 
why  did  you  betray  me?  I  thought  you  truth  itself — ay!  and 
if  you  had  but  waited  for  one  day  after  you  thought  me  dead, 
and  then  chosen  Guido  for  your  lover,  I  tell  you,  so  large  was 
my  tenderness,  I  would  have  pardoned  you!  Though  risen 
from  the  grave,  I  would  have  gone  away  and  made  no  sign — 
yes ;  if  you  had  waited — if  you  had  wept  for  me  ever  so  little ! 
But  when  your  own  lips  confessed  your  crime — when  I  knew 
that  within  three  months  of  our  marriage-day  you  had  fooled 
me — when  I  learned  that  my  love,  my  name,  my  position,  my 
honor,  were  used  as  mere  screens  to  shelter  your  intrigue  with 
the  man  I  called  friend ! — God !  what  creature  of  mortal  flesh 
and  blood  could  forgive  such  treachery?  I  am  no  more  than 
others — but  I  loved  you — and  in  proportion  to  my  love,  so  is 
the  greatness  of  my  wrong !" 

She  listened — she  advanced  a  little  toward  me — a  faint  smile 
dawned  on  her  pallid  lips — she  whispered : 

"Fabio!  Fabio!" 

I  looked  at  her — unconsciously  my  voice  dropped  into  a 
cadence  of  intense  melancholy  softened  by  tenderness. 

"Ay — Fabio!  What  wouldst  thou  with  the  ghost  of  him? 
Does  it  not  seem  strange  to  thee — that  hated  name? — thou, 
Nina,  whom  I  loved  as  few  men  love  women — thou  who  gavest 
me  no  love  at  all — thou,  who  hast  broken  my  heart  and  made 
me  what  I  am !" 

A  hard,  heavy  sob  rose  in  my  throat  and  choked  my  utter- 
ance. I  was  young ;  and  the  cruel  waste  and  destruction  of 
my  life  seemed  at  that  moment  more  than  I  could  bear.  She 
heard  me,  and  the  smile  brightened  more  warmly  on  her 
countenance.  She  came  close  to  me — half  timidly  yet  coax- 
ingly  she  threw  one  arm  about  my  neck — her  bosom  heaved 
quickly. 

"Fabio,"  she  murmured— "  Fabio,  forgive  me!  I  spoke  in 
haste — I  do  not  hate  thee !  Come !  I  will  make  amends  for 
all  thy  suffering— I  will  love  thee — I  will  be  true  to  thee,  I  will 
be  all  thine !     See !  thou  knowest  I  have  not  lost  my  beauty !" 

And  she  clung  to  me  with  passion,  raising  her  lips  to  mine, 
while  with  her  large  inquiring  eyes  she  searched  my  face  for 
the  reply  to  her  words.  I  gazed  down  upon  her  with  so-rrow- 
ful  sternness. 

"  Beauty?    Mere  food  for  worms — I  care  not  for  it !    Of  what 


vendetta!  345 

avail  is  a  fair  body  tenanted  by  a  fiendish  soul?  Forgiveness? 
— you  ask  too  late !     A  wrong  like  mine  can  never  be  forgiven." 

There  ensued  a  silence.  She  still  embraced  me,  but  her 
eyes  roved  over  me  as  though  she  searched  for  some  lost 
thing.  The  wind  tore  furiously  among  the  branches  of  the 
cypresses  outside,  and  screamed  through  the  small  holes  and 
crannies  of  the  stone-work,  rattling  the  iron  gate  at  the  sum- 
mit of  the  stairway  with  a  clanking  sound,  as  though  the 
famous  brigand  chief  had  escaped  with  all  his  chains  upon 
him,  and  were  clamoring  for  admittance  to  recover  his  buried 
property.  Suddenly  her  face  lightened  with  an  expression  of 
cunning  intensity — and  before  I  could  perceive  her  intent — 
with  swift  agility  she  snatched  from  my  vest  the  dagger  I 
carried! 

"  Too  late !"  she  cried,  with  a  wild  laugh.  "  No ;  not  too 
late !     Die — wretch !" 

For  one  second  the  bright  steel  flashed  in  the  wavering  light 
as  she  poised  it  in  act  to  strike — the  next,  I  had  caught  her 
murderous  hand  and  forced  it  down,  and  was  struggling  with 
her  for  the  mastery  of  the  weapon.  She  held  it  with  a  desper- 
ate grip — she  fought  with  me  breathlessly,  clinging  to  me  with 
all  her  force — she  reminded  me  of  that  ravenous  unclean  bird 
with  which  I  had  had  so  fierce  a  combat  on  the  night  of  my 
living  burial.  For  some  brief  moments  she  was  possessed  of 
supernatural  strength — she  sprung  and  tore  at  my  clothes, 
keeping  the  poniard  fast  in  her  clutch.  At  last  I  thrust  her 
down  panting  and  exhausted,  with  fury  flashing  in  her  eyes — 
I  wrenched  the  steel  from  her  hand  and  brandished  it  above 
her. 

"Who  talks  of  murder  now 7"  I  cried,  in  bitter  derision. 
"  Oh,  what  a  joy  you  have  lost!  What  triumph  for  you,  could 
you  have  stabbed  me  to  the  heart  and  left  me  here  dead  in- 
deed! What  a  new  career  of  lies  would  have  been  yours! 
How  sweetly  you  would  have  said  your  prayers  with  the  stain 
of  my  blood  upon  your  soul !  Ay !  you  would  have  fooled  the 
world  to  the  end,  and  died  in  the  odor  of  sanctity!  And  you 
dared  to  ask  my  forgiveness — " 

I  stopped  short — a  strange,  bewildered  expression  suddenly 
passed  over  her  face — she  looked  about  her  in  a  dazed,  vague 
way — then  her  gaze  became  suddenly  fixed,  and  she  pointed 
toward  a  dark  corner  and  shuddered. 

"Hush — hush!"    she    said,    in    a    low,   terrified    whisper. 


346  '        vendetta! 

"Look!  how  still  he  stands!  how  pale  he  seems!  Do  not 
speak — do  not  move — hush !  he  must  not  hear  your  voice — I 
will  go  to  him  and  tell  him  all — all — "  She  rose  and  stretched 
out  her  arms  with  a  gesture  of  entreaty : 

"Guido!  Guido!" 

"With  a  sudden  chilled  awe  at  my  heart  I  looked  toward  the 
spot  that  thus  riveted  her  attention — all  was  shrouded  in  deep 
gloom.     She  caught  my  arm.  i 

"  Kill  him !"  she  whispered,  fiercely — "  kill  him,  and  then  I 
will  love  you !  Ah !"  and  with  an  exclamation  of  fear  she  be- 
gan to  retire  swiftly  backward  as  though  confronted  by  some 
threatening  figure.  "  He  is  coming — nearer!  No,  no,  Guido! 
You  shall  not  touch  me — you  dare  not — Fabio  is  dead  and 
I  am  free — free !"  She  paused — her  wild  eyes  gazed  upward — 
did  she  see  some  horror  there?  She  put  up  both  hands  as 
though  to  shield  herself  from  some  impending  blow,  and 
uttering  a  loud  cry  she  fell  prone  on  the  stone  floor  insensible. 
Or  dead?  I  balanced  this  question  indifferently,  as  I  looked 
down  upon  her  inanimate  form.  The  flavor  of  vengeance  was 
hot  in  my  mouth,  and  filled  me  with  delirious  satisfaction. 
True,  I  had  been  glad,  when  my  bullet  whizzing  sharply 
through  the  air  had  carried  death  to  Guido,  but  my  gladness 
had  been  mingled  with  ruthfulness  and  regret.  JSJow,  not  one 
throb  of  pity  stirred  me — not  the  faintest  emotion  of  tender- 
ness. Ferrari's  sin  was  great,  but  she  tempted  him — her  crime 
outweighed  his.  And  now — there  she  lay  white  and  silent — 
in  a  swoon  that  was  like  death — that  might  be  death  for  aught 
I  knew — or  cared!  Had  her  lover's  ghost  indeed  appeared 
before  the  eyes  of  her  guilty  conscience?  I  did  not  doubt  it — 
I  should  scarcely  have  been  startled  had  I  seen  the  poor  pale 
shadow  of  him  by  my  side,  as  I  musingly  gazed  upon  the  fair 
fallen  body  of  the  traitress  who  had  wantonly  wrecked  both 
our  lives. 

"Ay,  Guido,"  I  muttered,  half  aloud — "dost  see  the  work? 
Thou  art  avenged,  frail  spirit — avenged  as  well  as  I — part 
thou  in  peace  from  earth  and  its  inhabitants! — haply  thou 
shalt  cleanse  in  pure  fire  the  sins  of  thy  lower  nature,  and  win 
a  final  pardon;  but  for  her — is  hell  itself  black  enough  to 
match  her  soul?" 

And  I  slowly  moved  toward  the  stairway ;  it  was  time,  I 
thought,  with  a  grim  resolve — to  leave  her!  Possibly  she  was 
dead — if  not — why  then  she  soon  would  be !    I  paused  irreso- 


vendetta!  347 

lute — the  wild  wind  battered  ceaselessly  at  the  iron  gate-way, 
and  wailed  as  though  with  a  hundred  voices  of  aerial  creat- 
ures, lamenting.  The  torches  were  burning  low,  the  darkness 
of  the  vault  deepened.  Its  gloom  concerned  me  little — I  had 
grown  familiar  with  its  unsightly  things,  its  crawling  spiders, 
its  strange  uncouth  beetles,  the  clusters  of  blue  fungi  on  its 
damp  walls.  The  scurrying  noises  made  by  bats  and  owls, 
who,  scared  by  the  lighted  candles,  were  hiding  themselves 
in  holes  and  corners  of  refuge,  startled  me  not  at  all-  -I  was 
well  accustomed  to  .such  sounds.  In  my  then  state  of  mind, 
an  emperor's  palace  were  less  fair  to  me  than  this  brave  char- 
nel  house — this  stone-mouthed  witness  of  my  struggle  back  to 
life  and  all  life's  misery.  The  deep-toned  bell  outside  the 
cemetery  struck  One  !  We  had  been  absent  nearly  two  hours 
from  the  brilliant  assemblage  left  at  the  hotel.  No  doubt  we 
were  being  searched  for  everywhere — it  mattered  not !  they 
would  not  come  to  seek  us  here.  I  went  on  resolutely  toward 
the  stair — as  I  placed  my  foot  on  the  firm  step  of  the  ascent, 
my  wife  stirred  from  her  recumbent  position — her  swoon  had 
passed.  She  did  not  perceive  me  where  I  stood,  ready  to  de- 
part— she  murmured  something  to  herself  in  a  low  voice,  and 
taking  in  her  hand  the  falling  tresses  of  her  own  hair  she 
seemed  to  admire  its  color  and  texture,  for  she  stroked  it  and 
restroked  it  and  finally  broke  into  a  gay  laugh — a  laugh  so  out 
of  all  keeping  with  her  surroundings,  that  it  startled  me  more 
than  her  attempt  to  murder  me. 

She  presently  stood  up  with  all  her  own  lily-like  grace  and 
fairy  majesty;  and  smiling  as  though  she  were  a  pleased 
child,  she  began  to  arrange  her  disordered  dress  with  elaborate 
care.  I  paused  wonderingly,  and  watched  her.  She  went  to 
the  brigand's  chest  of  treasure  and  proceeded  to  examine  its 
contents — laces,  silver  and  gold  embroideries,  antique  orna- 
ments, she  took  carefully  in  her  hands,  seeming  mentally  to 
calculate  their  cost  and  value.  Jewels  that  were  set  as  neck- 
laces, bracelets  and  other  trinkets  of  feminine  wear,  she  put 
on,  one  after  the  other,  till  her  neck  and  arms  were  loaded — 
and  literally  blazed  with  the  myriad  scintillations  of  different- 
colored  gems.  I  marveled  at  her  strange  conduct,  but  did  not 
as  yet  guess  its  meaning.  I  moved  away  from  the  staircase  and 
drew  imperceptibly  nearer  to  her —  Hark!  what  was  that? 
A  strange,  low  rumbling  like  a  distant  earthquake,  followed 
by  a  sharp  cracking  sound ;  I  stopped  to  listen  attentively.     A 


348  vendetta! 

furious  gust  of  wind  rushed  round  the  mausoleum  shrieking 
wildly  like  some  devil  in  anger,  and  the  strong  draught  flying 
through  the  gate-way  extinguished  two  of  the  flaring  candles. 
My  wife,  entirely  absorbed  in  counting  over  Carmelo  Neri's 
treasures,  apparently  saw  and  heard  nothing.  Suddenly  she 
broke  into  another  laugh — a  chuckling,  mirthless  laugh  such 
as  might  come  from  the  lips  of  the  aged  and  senile.  The 
sound  curdled  the  blood  in  my  veins — it  was  the  laugh  of  a 
mad  woman!    With  an  earnest,  distinct  voice  I  called  to  her: 

"Nina!  Nina!" 

She  turned  toward  me  still  smiling — her  eyes  were  bright, 
her  face  had  regained  its  habitual  color,  and  as  she  stood  in 
the  dim  light,  with  her  rich  tresses  falling  about  her,  and  the 
clustering  gems  massed  together  in  a  glittering  fire  against 
her  white  skin,  she  looked  unnaturally,  wildly  beautiful.  She 
nodded  to  me,  half  graciously,  half  haughtily,  but  gave  me  no 
answer.     Moved  with  quick  pity  I  called  again : 

"Nina!" 

She  laughed  again — the  same  terrible  laugh.  "  Si,  slf  Son' 
bella,  son'  bellissima  !  "  she  murmured.  "  £  tu,  Guido  mio  ?  Tu 
m'ami?" 

Then  raising  one  hand  as  though  commanding  attention, 
she  cried: 

"  Ascolta!"  and  began  to  sing  clearly  though  feebly: 

"  Tt  saluto,  Rosignuolo  ! 
Nel  tuo  dtiolo — //  saluto  ! 
Set  r  amante  dclla  rasa 
Che  morendo  si  fa  sposa  !  " 

As  the  old  familiar  melody  echoed  through  the  dreary  vault, 
my  bitter  wrath  against  her  partially  lessened;  with  the  swift- 
ness of  my  southern  temperament  a  certain  compassion  stirred 
my  soul.  She  was  no  longer  quite  the  same  woman  who  had 
wronged  and  betrayed  me — she  had  the  helplessness  and  fear- 
ful innocence  of  madness — in  that  condition  I  could  not  have 
hurt  a  hair  of  her  head.  I  stepped  hastily  forward — I  resolved 
to  take  her  out  of  the  vault — after  all  I  would  not  leave  her 
thus — but  as  I  approached,  she  withdrew  from  me,  and  with 
an  angry  stamp  of  her  foot  motioned  me  backward,  while  a 
dark  frown  knitted  her  fair  brows. 

"  Who  are  you?"  she  cried,  imperiously.  *'  Yon  are  dead, 
quite  dead!    How  dare  yoa  come  out  of  your  grave T 


vendetta!  349 

And  she  stared  at  me  defiantly — then  suddenly  clasping  her 
hands  as  though  in  ecstasy,  and  seeming  to  address  some  in- 
visible being  at  her  side,  she  said,  in  low,  delighted  tones: 

"He  is  dead,  Guido!  Are  you  not  glad?"  She  paused,  ap- 
parently expecting  some  reply,  for  she  looked  about  her  won- 
deringly,  and  continued — "  You  did  not  answer  me — are  you 
afraid?  Why  are  you  so  pale  and  stern?  Have  you  just  come 
back  from  Rome?  What  have  you  heard?  That  I  am  false? — 
oh,  no!  I  will  love  you  still —  Ah!  I  forgot!  you  also  are 
dead,  Guido !  I  remember  now — you  can  not  hurt  me  any 
more — I  am  free — and  quite  happy !" 

Smiling,  she  continued  her  song : 

"  Ti  saltito,  Sol  di  Maggio 
Col  iuo  raggio  ti  saltiio  / 
Set  I'  Apollo  del  passato 
Set  I' amor e  incoronato  I " 

Again — again! — that  hollow  rumbling  and  cracking  sound 
overhead.     What  could  it  be? 

"  L' amore  iticoronato  !"  hummed  Nina  fitfully,  as  she  plunged 
her  round,  jeweled  arm  down  again  into  the  chest  of  treasure. 
"  S\,  si  !    Che  viorendo  si  fa  sposa — che  vwrendo  si  fa  sposa — ah !" 

This  last  was  an  exclamation  of  pleasure ;  she  had  found 
some  toy  that  charmed  her — it  was  the  old  mirror  set  in  its 
frame  of  pearls.  The  possession  of  this  object  seemed  to  fill 
her  with  extraordinary  joy,  and  she  evidently  retained  no 
consciousness  of  where  she  was,  for  she  sat  down  on  the  up- 
turned coffin,  which  had  held  my  living  body,  with  absolute 
indifference.  Still  singing  softly  to  herself,  she  gazed  lov- 
ingly at  her  own  reflection,  and  fingered  the  jewels  she  wore, 
arranging  and  rearranging  them  in  various  patterns  with  one 
hand,  while  in  the  other  stie  raised  the  looking-glass  in  the 
flare  of  the  candles  which  lighted  up  its  quaint  setting.  A 
strange  and  awful  picture  she  made  there — gazing  with  such 
lingering  tenderness  on  the  portrait  of  her  own  beauty — while 
surrounded  by  the  moldering  coffins  that  silently  announced 
how  little  such  beauty  was  worth — playing  with  jewels,  the 
foolish  trinkets  of  life,  in  the  abode  of  skeletons,  where  the 
password  is  death!  Thinking  thus,  I  gazed  at  her.  as  one 
might  gaze  at  a  dead  body — not  loathingly  any  more,  but  only 
mournfully.  My  vengeance  was  satiated.  I  could  not  wa.jre 
war  against  this  vacantly  smiling  mad  creature,  out  of  whom 


350  vendetta! 

the  spirit  of  a  devilish  intelligence  and  cunning  had  been  torn, 
and  who  therefore  was  no  longer  the  same  woman.  Her  loss 
of  wit  should  compensate  for  my  loss  of  love.  I  determined 
to  try  and  attract  her  attention  again.  I  opened  my  lips  to 
speak — but  before  the  words  could  form  themselves,  that  odd 
rumbling  noise  again  broke  on  my  ears — this  time  with  a  loud 
reverberation  that  rolled  overhead  like  the  thunder  of  artillery. 
Before  I  could  imagine  the  reason  of  it — before  I  could  ad- 
vance one  step  toward  my  wife,  who  still  sat  on  the  upturned 
coffin,  smiling  at  herself  in  the  mirror — before  I  could  utter  a 
word  or  move  an  inch,  a  tremendous  crash  resounded  through 
the  vault,  followed  by  a  stinging  shower  of  stones,  dust,  and 
pulverized  mortar !  I  stepped  backward  amazed,  bewildered 
— speechless — instinctively  shutting  my  eyes — when  I  opened 
them  again  all  was  darkness — all  was  silence !  Only  the  wind 
howled  outside  more  frantically  than  ever — a  sweeping  gust 
whirled  through  the  vault,  blowing  some  dead  leaves  against 
my  face,  and  I  heard  the  boughs  of  trees  creaking  noisily  in 
the  fury  of  the  storm.  Hush! — was  that  a  faint  moan? 
Quivering  in  every  limb,  and  sick  with  a  nameless  dread,  I 
sought  in  my  pocket  for  matches — I  found  them.  Then  with 
an  effort,  mastering  the  shuddering  revulsion  of  my  nerves,  I 
struck  a  light.  The  flame  was  so  dim  that  for  an  instant  I 
could  see  nothing.     I  called  loudly : 

"  Nina!"    There  was  no  answer. 

One  of  the  extinguished  candles  was  near  me ;  I  lighted  it 
with  trembling  hands  and  held  it  aloft — then  I  uttered  a  wild 
shriek  of  horror!  Oh,  God  of  inexorable  justice,  surely  Thy 
vengeance  was  greater  than  mine !  An  enormous  block  of 
stone  dislodged  by  the  violence  of  the  storm,  had  fallen  from 
the  roof  of  the  vault ;  fallen  sheer  down  over  the  very  place 
where  she  had  sat  a  minute  or  two  before,  fantastically  smil- 
ing !  Crushed  under  the  huge  mass — crushed  into  the  very 
splinters  of  my  own  empty  coffin  she  lay — and  yet — and  yet — 
I  could  see  nothing,  save  one  white  hand  protruding — the  hand 
on  which  the  marriage-ring  glittered  mockingly !  Even  as  I 
looked,  that  hand  quivered  violently — beat  the  ground — and 
then — was  still !  It  was  horrible.  In  dreams  I  see  that  quiv- 
ering white  hand  now,  the  jewels  on  it  sparkling  with  derisive 
luster.  It  appeals,  it  calls,  it  threatens,  it  prays!  and  when 
ray  time  comes  to  die,  it  will  beckon  me  to  my  grave !  A 
portion  of  her  costly   dress   was  visible — my  eye  lighted  on 


vendetta!  351 

this — and  I  saw  a  slow  stream  of  blood  oozing  thickly  from 
beneath  the  stone — the  ponderous  stone  that  no  man  could 
have  moved  an  inch — the  stone  that  sealed  her  awful  sepul- 
chet!  Great  Heaven!  how  fast  the  crimson  stream  of  life 
trickled! — staining  the  snowy  lace  of  her  garment  with  a  dark 
and  dreadful  hue !  Staggering  feebly  like  a  drunken  man — 
half  delirious  with  anguish — I  approached  and  touched  that 
small  white  hand  that  lay  stiffly  on  the  ground — I  bent  my 
head — I  almost  kissed  it,  but  some  strange  revulsion  rose  in 
my  soul  and  forbade  the  act ! 

In  a  stupor  of  dull  agony  I  sought  and  found  the  crucifix  of 
the  monk  Cipriano  that  had  fallen  to  the  floor — I  closed  the 
yet  warm  finger-tips  around  it  and  left  it  thus;  an  unnatural, 
terrible  calmness  froze  the  excitement  of  my  strained  nerves. 

"  "Tis  all  I  can  do  for  thee !"  I  muttered,  incoherently.  "  May 
Christ  forgive  thee,  though  I  can  not !" 

And  covering  my  eyes  to  shut  out  the  sight  before  me  I 
turned  away.  I  hurried  in  a  sort  of  frenzy  toward  the  stair- 
way— on  reaching  the  lowest  step  I  extinguished  the  torch  I 
carried.  Some  impulse  made  me  glance  back — and  I  saw  what 
I  see  now — what  I  shall  always  see  till  I  die !  An  aperture 
had  been  made  through  the  roof  of  the  vault  by  the  fall  of  the 
great  stone,  and  through  this  the  fitful  moon  poured  down  a 
long  ghostly  ray.  The  green  glimmer,  like  a  spectral  lamp, 
deepened  the  surrounding  darkness,  only  showing  up  with  fell 
distinctness  one  object — that  slender  protruding  wrist  and 
hand,  whiter  than  Alpine  snow!  I  gazed  at  it  wildly — the 
gleam  of  the  jewels  down  there  hurt  my  eyes — the  shine  of  the 
silver  crucifix  clasped  in  those  little  waxen  fingers  dazzled  my 
brain — and  with  a  frantic  cry  of  unreasoning  terror,  I  rushed 
up  the  steps  with  a  maniac  speed — opened  the  iron  gate 
through  which  she  would  pass  no  more,  and  stood  at  liberty  in 
the  free  air,  face  to  face  with  a  wind  as  tempestuous  as  my 
own  passions.  With  what  furious  haste  I  shut  the  entrance 
to  the  vault!  with  what  fierce  precaution  I  locked  and  double- 
locked  it!  Nay,  so  little  did  I  realize  that  she  was  actually 
dead,  that  I  caught  myself  saying  aloud — "  Safe — safe  at  last  I 
She  can  not  escape — I  have  closed  the  secret  passage — no  one 
will  hear  her  cries — she  will  struggle  a  little,  but  it  will  soon 
be  over — she  will  never  laugh  any  more — never  kiss — never 
love — never  tell  lies  for  the  fooling  of  men ! — she  is  buried 
as  I  was — buried  alive !" 


352  vendetta! 

Muttering  thus  to  myself  with  a  sort  of  sobbing  incoherence, 
I  turned  to  meet  the  snarl  of  the  savage  blast  of  the  night, 
with  my  brain  reeling,  my  limbs  weak  and  trembling — with 
the  heavens  and  earth  rocking  before  me  like  a  wild  sea — with 
the  flying  moon  staring  aghast  through  the  driving  clouds — 
with  all  the  universe,  as  it  were,  in  a  broken  and  shapeless 
chaos  about  me ;  even  so  I  went  forth  to  meet  my  fate — and 
left  her ! 

*  if  *  :tf  *  *  * 

Unrecognized,  untracked,  I  departed  from  Naples.  Wrapped 
in  my  cloak,  and  stretched  in  a  sort  of  heavy  stupor  on  the 
deck  of  the  "  Rondinella,"  my  appearance  apparently  excited 
no  suspicion  in  the  mind  of  the  skipper,  old  Antonio  Bardi, 
with  whom  my  friend  Andrea  had  made  terms  for  my  voyage, 
little  aware  of  the  real  identity  of  the  passenger  he  recom- 
mended. 

The  morning  was  radiantly  beautiful — the  sparkling  waves 
rose  high  on  tiptoe  to  kiss  the  still  boisterous  wind — the  sun- 
light broke  in  a  wide  smile  of  spring-tide  glory  over  the  world! 
With  the  burden  of  my  agony  upon  me — with  the  utter  ex- 
haustion of  my  overwrought  nerves,  I  beheld  all  things  as  in 
a  feverish  dream — the  laughing  light,  the  azure  ripple  of 
waters — the  receding  line  of  my  native  shores— everything 
was  blurred,  indistinct,  and  unreal  to  me,  though  my  soul, 
Argus-eyed,  incessantly  peered  down,  down  into  those  dark- 
some depths  where  s/ie  lay,  silent  forever.  For  now  I  knew 
she  was  dead.  Fate  had  killed  her — not  I.  All  unrepentant 
as  she  was,  triumphing  in  her  treachery  to  the  last,  even  in 
her  madness,  still  I  would  have  saved  her,  though  she  strove 
to  murder  me. 

Yet  it  was  well  the  stone  had  fallen — who  knows ! — if  she 
had  lived —  I  strove  not  to  think  of  her,  and  drawing  the  key 
of  the  vault  from  my  pocket,  I  let  it  drop  with  a  sullen  splash 
into  the  waves.  All  was  over — no  one  pursued  me — no  one 
inquired  whither  I  went.  I  arrived  at  Civita  Vecchia  unques- 
tioned; from  thence  I  traveled  to  Leghorn,  where  I  embarked 
on  board  a  merchant  trading  vessel  bound  for  South  America. 
Thus  I  lost  myself  to  the  world;  thus  I  became,  as  it  were, 
buried  alive  for  the  second  time.  I  am  safely  sepulchered  in 
these  wild  woods,  and  I  seek  no  escape. 

Wearing  the  guise  of  a  rough  settler,  one  who  works  in  com* 
men  with  others,  hewing  down  tough  parasites  and  poisonous 


/endetta!  353 

Tindergrowths  in  order  to  effect  a  clearing  through  these  path- 
less solitudes,  none  can  trace  in  the  strong  stern  man,  with 
the  care-worn  face  and  white  hair,  any  resemblance  to  the 
once  popular  and  wealthy  Count  Oliva,  whose  disappearance, 
so  strange  and  sudden,  was  for  a  time  the  talk  of  all  Italy. 
For,  on  one  occasion  when  visiting  the  nearest  town,  I  saw  an 
article  in  a  newspaper,  headed  "  Mysterious  Occurrence  in 
Naples,"  and  I  read  every  word  of  it  with  a  sensation  of  dull 
amusement. 

From  it  I  learned  that  the  Count  Oliva  was  advertised  for. 
His  abrupt  departure,  together  with  that  of  his  newly  married 
wife,  formerly  Contessa  Romani,  on  the  very  night  of  their 
wedding,  had  created  the  utmost  excitement  in  the  city.  The 
landlord  of  the  hotel  where  he  stayed  was  prosecuting  inquiries 
— «o  was  the  count's  former  valet,  one  Vincenzo  Flamma. 
Any  information  would  be  gratefully  received  by  the  police 
authorities.  If  within  twelve  months  no  news  were  obtained, 
the  immense  properties  of  the  Romani  family,  in  default  of 
existing  kindred,  would  be  handed  over  to  the  crown. 

There  was  much  more  to  the  same  effect,  and  I  read  it  with 
the  utmost  indifference.  Why  do  they  not  search  the  Romani 
vault? — I  thought  gloomily — they  would  find  some  authentic 
information  there !  But  I  know  the  Neapolitans  well ;  they 
are  timorous  and  superstitious ;  they  would  as  soon  hug  a  pes- 
tilence as  explore  a  charnel  house.  One  thing  gladdened  me ; 
it  was  the  projected  disposal  of  my  fortime.  The  crown,  the 
Kingdom  of  Italy,  was  surely  as  noble  an  heir  as  a  man 
could  have !  I  returned  to  my  woodland  hut  with  a  strange 
peace  on  my  soul. 

As  I  told  you  at  first,  I  am  a  dead  man — the  world,  with  its 
busy  life  and  aims,  has  naught  to  do  with  me.  The  tall  trees, 
the  birds,  the  whispering  grasses  are  my  friends  and  my  com- 
panions— they,  and  they  only,  are  sometimes  the  silent  wit- 
nesses of  the  torturing  fits  of  agony  that  every  now  and  then 
overwhelm  me  with  bitterness.  For  I  suffer  always.  That  is 
natural.  Revenge  is  sweet! — but  who  shall  paint  the  horrors 
of  memory?  My  vengeance  now  recoils  upon  my  own  head. 
I  do  not  complain  of  this — it  is  the  law  of  compensation — it  is 
just.  I  blame  no  one — save  Her,  the  woman  who  wrought  my 
wrong.  Dead  as  she  is  I  do  not  forgive  her;  I  have  tried  to, 
but  I  can  not!  Do  men  ever  truly  forgive  the  women  who 
ruin  their  lives?  I  doubt  it.  As  for  me,  I  feel  that  the  end  is 
23 


354  vendetta! 

not  yet — that  when  my  soul  is  released  from  its  earthly  prison, 
I  shall  still  be  doomed  in  some  drear  dim  way  to  pursue  her 
treacherous  flitting  spirit  over  the  black  chasms  of  a  hell 
darker  than  Dante's — she  in  the  likeness  of  a  wandering  flame 
— I  as  her  haunting  shadow ;  she,  flying  before  me  in  coward 
fear — I,  hasting  after  her  in  relentless  wrath — and  this  forever 
and  ever! 

But  I  ask  no  pity — I  need  none.  I  punished  the  guilty,  and 
in  doing  so  suffered  more  than  they — that  is  as  it  must  always 
be.  I  have  no  regret  and  no  remorse ;  only  one  thing  troubles 
me — one  little  thing — a  mere  foolish  fancy !  It  comes  upon 
me  in  the  night,  when  the  large-faced  moon  looks  at  me  from 
heaven.  For  the  moon  is  grand  in  this  climate ;  she  is  like  a 
golden-robed  empress  of  all  worlds  as  she  sweeps  in  lustrous 
magnificence  through  the  dense  violet  skies.  I  shut  out  her 
radiance  as  much  as  I  can ;  I  close  the  blind  at  the  narrow 
window  of  my  solitary  forest  cabin ;  and  yet  do  what  I  will, 
one  wide  ray  creeps  in  always — one  ray  that  eludes  all  my 
efforts  to  expel  it.  Under  the  door  it  comes,  or  through  some 
unguessed  cranny  in  the  wood-work.  I  have  in  vain  tried  to 
find  the  place  of  its  entrance. 

The  color  of  the  moonlight  in  this  climate  is  of  a  mellow 
amber — so  I  can  not  understand  why  that  pallid  ray  that  visits 
me  so  often,  should  be  green — a  livid,  cold,  watery  green; 
and  in  it,  like  a  lily  in  an  emerald  pool,  I  see  a  little  white 
hand  on  which  the  jewels  cluster  thick  like  drops  of  dew! 
The  hand  moves — it  lifts  itself — the  small  fingers  point  at  me 
threateningly — they  quiver — and  then — they  beckon  me  slowly, 
solemnly,  commandingly  onward! — onward! — to  some  infinite 
land  of  awful  mysteries  where  Light  and  Love  shall  dawn  for 
me  no  more ! 


THE  END. 


MY  WONDERFUL  WIFE. 


MY  WONDERFUL  WIFE! 


CHAPTER  I. 

A   REALLY  WONDERFUL  WOMAN. 

She  was  really  a  wonderful  woman !  I  always  said  so !  She 
captivated  me  with  a  smile;  she  subjugated  my  frail  and 
trembling  soul  with  a  glance.  She  took  such  utter  possession 
of  me  from  the  very  moment  I  set  eyes  on  her  that  I  had  no 
longer  any  will  of  my  own;  in  fact,  to  this  day  I  don't  know 
how  I  came  to  marry  her.  I  have  a  hazy  idea  that  she  married 
me.  I  think  it  is  very  likely,  knowing,  as  I  know  now,  what 
a  powerfi^l,  sweeping-away-of-all-obstacles  sort  of  intellect  she 
has.  Bu*;  when  I  first  saw  her  she  was  a  glorious  girl !  One 
of  those  "  fine"  girls,  don't  you  know? — with  plump  shoulders, 
round  arms,  ample  bosom,  full  cheeks,  good  teeth,  and  quan- 
tities of  hair — a  girl  with  "go,"  and  "  pluck,"  and  plenty  of 
"Btyle;"  just  the  kind  of  creature  for  a  small,  mild,  rather 
nervous  man  like  me.  She  had  just  come  back  from  the  High- 
lands, where  she  had  "  brought  down"  a  superb  stag  with  a 
single  unerring  shot  from  her  gun ;  and  all  the  blowsy  glow 
of  the  Scotch  breeze  was  about  her,  and  all  the  scent  of  the 
gorse  and  heather  seemed  to  come  out  in  whiffs  from  her 
cropped  and  frizzy  "fringe."  She  talked — ye  gods!  how 
amazingly  she  talked — she  laughed,  till  the  superabundant 
excess  of  her  immense  vitality  made  me  positively  envious! 
She  danced  with  the  vigor  and  swing  of  a  stalwart  Amazon — 
danced  till  my  brain  swung  round  and  round  in  wild  gyrations 
to  the  delirious  excitement  of  her  ceaseless  twirl.  For  she 
never  tired,  never  felt  faint,  never  got  giddy — not  she !  She 
was  in  sound  health,  mark  you;  sound  and  splendid  physical 
condition,  and  had  appetite  enough  for  two  ordinary  men  of 
middle  size ;  moreover,  she  ate  a  mixture  of  things  that  no 
ordinary  man  could  possibly  eat  without  future  spasms.     I 


4  MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE!  ' 

watched  her  that  night  we  met  (we  were  at  one  of  those  "  At 
Homes"  with  a  small  "  dancing"  in  the  corner  of  the  card  which 
help  to  make  up  the  melancholy  pleasures  of  London  social 
life) — I  watched  her,  I  say,  in  breathless  surprise  and  admira- 
tion, as  between  every  couple  of  dances  she  ate  three  ices  and 
a  plateful  of  lobster  salad — I  stared  at  her  in  unfeigned  ecstasy 
and  awe  when  at  supper  she  made  such  short  work  of  the  may- 
onnaise, the  salmon  and  cucumber,  the  veal  and  ham  pie,  the 
cream  puffs,  the  red  jelly,  the  cheese  and  sardines,  the  cham- 
pagne and  tipsy-cake,  and  then  7nore  ice-cream !  I  hastened  to 
provide  her  with  two  cups  of  coffee,  one  after  the  other,  and  a 
thrill  of  wonder  and  delight  ran  through  me  when,  in  reply  to 
my  interested  query,  "  Does  not  coffee  keep  you  awake  at 
night?"  she  gave  a  loud  and  cheerful  laugh  at  my  simplicity 
and  replied: 

"  Me?  Why,  I  sleep  like  a  top,  and  wake  as  fresh  as  a  daisy." 
Fresh  as  a  daisy !  How  suggestively  beautiful !  I  believed 
her  thoroughly.  Such  a  physique  as  she  had,  such  a  clear 
skin,  such  a  bright,  full,  almost  wild  eye!  Health  radiated 
from  her;  her  very  aspect  was  invigorating  as  well  as  com- 
manding, and  I  was  completely  overpowered  and  taken  cap- 
tive by  her  superb  masterfulness  and  self-assertion.  She  was 
so  utterly  unlike  the  women  in  Walter  Scott's  novels,  you 
know — the  women  our  great-grandfathers  used  to  admire — 
those  gentle,  dignified,  retiring,  blushing  personages,  who 
always  wanted  men  to  fight  for  them  and  protect  them — poor 
wretched  weaklings  they  were,  to  be  sure !  Of  course,  all  that 
sort  of  thing  was  very  pretty  and  made  a  man  think  himself 
of  some  consequence  and  use  in  the  world ;  but  it  was  great 
nonsense  when  you  come  to  consider  it.  Why  should  men  be 
at  the  bother  of  looking  after  women?  They  can  look  after 
themselves,  and  pretty  sharply  too ;  they  have  proved  it  over 
and  over  again.  And  as  to  business,  they  beat  a  man  hollow 
in  their  keen  aptitude  for  money  transactions! 

Well,  as  I  was  saying,  this  splendid  girl,  Honoria  Maggs — 
that  was  her  name — bowled  me  over  completely — "  knocked 
me  into  a  cocked  hat,"  as  I  heard  the  Duke  of  Havilands  re- 
mark the  other  day  at  a  race-meeting,  and  as  he  is  a  royal 
and  exalted  individual  I  suppose  it  is  the  most  aristocratic 
expression  in  vogue.  One  must  always  strive  to  imitate  one's 
betters;  and  he  is  unquestionably  my  better  by  several  thou- 
sands of  pounds,  for  nowadays,  as  we  are  all  aware,  we  only 


''  MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE!  5 

rank  superiority  in  mind  by  superfluity  of  cash.     I  recognized 
in  this  same  Honoria  Maggs  my  fate,  from  whom  there  was 
no  escaping;  I  followed  her  from  "At  Home"  to  "At  Home," 
from  ball  to  ball,  from  concert  to  concert,  from  race-course  to 
race-course,  with  an  unflagging  pertinacity  that  bordered  on 
mania — a  pertinacity  which  surprised  everybody,  myself  in- 
cluded.    I  don't  know  why  I  did  it.  I'm  sure.     If  it  will  gratify 
the  "  spiritualists,"  I  am  quite  willing  to  set  it  down  to  "  astral 
influence."     On  the  other  hand,  if  it  will  oblige  the  celebrated 
Dr.  Charcot,  of  Paris,  I  am  ready  to  believe  it  was  hypnotism. 
She   "  drew"   me — yes,    that   is   the    correct   term.     Honoria 
Maggs  "  drew"  me  on,  and  I  allowed  myself  to  be  "  drawn," 
regardless  of  future  consequences.     At  last  things  came  to  the 
usual  crisis.     I  proposed.     I  made  a  full  and  frank  statement 
of  the  extent  of  my  financial  resources,  carefully  explained 
how  much  I  had  to  my  credit  in  the  bank,  and  how  much  was 
invested  in  Consols,  all  with  an  agreeably  satisfactory  result. 
I  was  accepted,  and  for  the  next  month  or  two  went  about  re- 
ceiving the  congratulations  of  my  friends,  and  inanely  believ- 
ing myself  to  be  the  happiest  of  men.     During  our  courtship 
Honoria  was  not  in  the  least  bit  sentimental ;   she  was  far  too 
sensible  for  that.     She  never  wanted  a  kiss  in  a  dark  passage; 
she  would  have  been  justly  enraged  had  I  suggestively  trod- 
den on  her  toes  under  the  table.     She  never  wished  to  stop 
and  look  at  the  moon  on  her  way  home  from  any  neighbor's 
house  or  place  of  amusement;   not  a  bit  of  it!     She  was  a 
thoroughly  practical,  capable,  healthy  female,  utterly  devoid 
of  romance.     I  was  glad  of  this,  because  I  had  been  lately 
reading  in  the  magazines  and  newspapers  that  romance  of  any 
kind  was  unwholesome,  and  I  did  not  want  an  unwholesome 
wife.     And   she   was   tremendously  healthy;    there   was  no 
sickly   mawkishness   or  die-away   languor   about    /ler/     She 
wrote  a  novel — yes,  and  published  it  too;  but  it  was  not  rub- 
bish, you  understand.     By  rubbish,  I  mean  it  was  not  full  of 
silly  sentiments,  like  Byron's  verses  or  Shakespeare's  plays; 
it  had  not  idyllic-sublime  stuff  in  it.     It  was  a  sporting  novel, 
full  of  slap-dash  vigor  and  stable  slang;   a  really  jolly,  go- 
ahead,  over-hill-and-dale,  cross-country  sort  of  book,  with  just 
a  thread  of  a  plot  in  it,  which  didn't  matter,  and  an  abrupt 
wind-up  that  left  you  in  the  lurch,  wondering  what  it  was  all 
about;  in  short,  the  kind  of  reading  that  doesn't  bother  a  fel- 
low's brain.     It  was  a  great  success,    partly  because   she, 


6  MY   WONDERFUL   WIFEI 

Honoria  Maggs,  found  out  the  names  of  all  the  critics  and 
"beat  them  up,"  as  she  frankly  said,  in  her  own  irresistibly 
dominant  way,  and  partly  because  the  Duke  of  Havilands  (I 
mentioned  him  just  now)  swore  it  was  "  the  most  doosid  clever 
thing  he  had  ever  clapped  eyes  on  in  print."  Her  name  was 
in  everybody's  mouth  for  a  short  time,  and  in  the  full  flush  of 
her  glory  she  went  off  to  the  moors  partridge-shooting,  and 
"  bagged"  such  a  quantity  of  game  that  the  fact  was  chronicled 
in  all  the  society  journals;  particularly  that  smart  paper  that 
always  abuses  our  venerable  queen  in  its  delightful  columns. 
She  rose  higher  than  ever  in  popular  estimation.  Redfem 
implored  her  to  let  him  "  build"  her  gowns ;  all  the  rival  tailors 
sent  her  their  circulars  and  estimates  free  of  charge ;  the  vari- 
ous makers  of  soap  entreated  her  to  use  their  different  speci- 
mens regularly  every  morning;  the  photographers  offered  her 
"  sittings"  gratis,  and  she  was  very  nearly  becoming  a  "  pro- 
fessional beauty,"  as  well  as  a  crack  shot  and  literary  genius. 
Yes,  I  know  "genius'  is  a  big  word;  but  if  Honoria  Maggs  did 
not  have  genius,  then,  I  ask,  what  did  she  have?  What  active 
demon,  or  legion  of  demons,  possessed  her?  But  I  anticipate. 
I  have  just  remarked  that  she  was  at  this  time  nearly  becom- 
ing a  "professional  beauty,"  and  in  that  character  might 
possibly  have  gone  on  the  stage,  there  to  get  rid  of  some  of 
that  amazing  energy  of  which  she  had  such  a  superabundance, 
but  that  /stepped  in  and  cut  matters  short  by  marrying  her. 
Yes;  I  suppose  I  did maxry  her. 

I  must  have  done  so,  though,  as  I  before  hinted,  it  seems  to 
me  that  she  was  the  imperative  and  I  the  passive  party  in  the 
arrangement.  I  know  my  responses  in  church  at  the  marriage 
service  were  very  inaudible,  and  that  hers  were  so  distinctly 
uttered  that  they  echoed  through  the  chancel  and  almost 
frightened  me  by  their  decisive  resonance.  But  she  always 
had  a  resonant  voice;  good  lungs,  you  know — not  a  touch  of 
consumption  there  ! 

It  was  a  pretty  wedding,  people  said.  It  may  have  been.  I 
know  nobody  looked  at  or  thought  of  me.  I  was  the  least  part 
of  the  ceremony — the  bride  was  everything;  the  bride  always 
is  everything.  And  yet  the  bridegroom  is  an  absolute  neces- 
sity;  he  is  wanted,  is  he  not?  The  affair  would  not  go  on  well 
without  him?  Then  why  is  he,  as  a  rule,  so  obstinately  ig- 
nored and  despised  by  his  friends  and  relatives  at  his  own 
wedding?    This  is  one  of  the  perplexing  problems  of  social 


MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE!  7 

life  that  I  shall  never,  never  understand!  "We  had  a  great 
number  of  presents.  My  wife,  of  course,  had  the  most;  and 
one  among  her  numerous  marriage  gifts  struck  me  as  singu- 
larly inappropriate.  It  was  a  cigar  and  ash-tray,  in  oak  and 
silver,  very  prettily  engraved  with  her  monogram,  and  it  came 
from  the  friend  she  had  been  staying  with  in  the  Highlands, 
when  she  had  brought  down  the  stag  with  the  six-branched 
antlers,  antlers  which  now,  tipped  with  silver,  were  destined 
to  adorn  the  entrance  hall  of  our  new  house.  When  we  were 
driving  away  from  the  scene  of  our  bridal  festivities,  and  en- 
deavoring to  shield  ourselves  from  the  shower  of  rice  that  was 
being  pelted  through  the  carriage  windows  by  our  overzealous 
well-wishers,  I  remarked  playfully : 

"  That  was  a  singular  gift  for  you,  my  darling,  from  Mrs. 
Stirling  of  Glen  Ruach — she  must  have  meant  it  for  me!" 

"  Which?"  demanded  Honoria,  abruptly.  (She  never  wasted 
words.) 

"  The  cigar  and  ash  tray,"  I  replied. 

"  Singular?"  and  the  newly  made  partner  of  my  joys  and 
sorrows  turned  upon  me  with  a  brilliant  smile  in  her  fine  eyes. 
"  Not  singular  at  all.     She  knows  I  smoke." 

Smoke!  A  feeble  gurgle  or  gasp  of  astonishment  came  from 
my  lips  and  I  fell  back  a  little  in  the  carriage. 

"  Smoke?     Vou  smoke,  Honoria?     You — you — " 

She  laughed  aloud.  "Smoke?  I  should  think  so!  Why, 
you  silly  old  boy,  didn't  you  know  that?  Haven't  you  smelled 
my  tobacco  before  now?     Real  Turkish! — here  you  are!" 

And  she  produced  from  her  pocket  a  mannish-looking  leather 
case  embossed  with  silver,  full  of  the  finest  "  golden-hair" 
brand  so  approved  by  connoisseurs,  and  having  at  one  side  the 
usual  supply  of  rice-paper  wherewith  to  make  cigarettes.  She 
rolled  up  one  very  deftly  as  she  spoke,  and  held  it  out  to 
me. 

"  Have  it?"  she  asked,  carelessly;  but  I  made  a  sign  of  pro- 
test and  she  put  it  back  in  the  case  with  another  laugh. 

"  Very  rude  you  are!"  she  declared.  "Very!  You  refuse 
the  first  cigarette  made  for  you  by  your  wife!" 

This  was  a  stab,  and  I  felt  it  keenly. 

"  I  will  take  it  presently,  Honoria,"  I  stammered,  nervously; 
"  but — but — my  darling,  my  sweetest  girl,  I  do  not  like  you  to 
smoke." 

"  Don't  you?"  and  she  surveyed  me  with  the  utmost  noncha* 


8  MY   WONDERFUL  WIFE! 

lance.  "Sorry  for  that!  But  it  can't  be  helped  now!  You 
smoke — I've  seen  you  at  it." 

"  Yes,  yes,  /  do ;  but  I  am  a  man,  and — and — " 

"  And  I  am  a  woman !"  finished  Honoria,  composedly,  "  And 
we  twain  have  just  been  made  one  !  So  I  have  as  much  right 
to  smoke  as  you,  old  boy,  being  part  and  parcel  of  you ;  and 
we'll  enjoy  our  cigars  together  after  dinner." 

"  Cigars !" 

"  Yes ;  or  cigarettes — which  you  please.  It  doesn't  matter 
in  the  least  to  me;  I'm  accustomed  to  both!" 

I  sat  dumb  and  bewildered.  I  could  not  realize  the  position. 
I  stared  at  my  bride,  and  suddenly  observed  a  masculine  im- 
perviousness  in  her  countenance  that  surprised  me ;  a  deter- 
mination of  chin  that  I  wondered  I  had  not  noticed  before.  A 
vague  feeling  of  alarm  ran  through  me  like  a  cold  shiver. 
Had  I  made  a  mistake  after  all  in  my  choice  of  a  wife?  And 
was  this  fine  bouncing  creature — this  splendidly  developed, 
vigorously  healthy  specimen  of  womanhood  going  to  prove 
too  much  for  me?  I  recoiled  from  my  own  painful  thoughts. 
I  had  always  laughed  to  scorn  those  weak-spirited  men  who 
allowed  themselves  to  be  mastered  by  their  wives.  Now,  was 
/  also  destined  to  become  a  laughing-stock  for  others?  And 
should  1  also  be  ruled  with  the  female  rod  of  iron?  Never, 
never,  never!  I  would  rebel — I  would  protest!  But  in  the 
mean  time — well,  I  was  just  married,  and,  as  a  perfectly  natu- 
ral consequence,  I  dared  not  speak  my  mind! 


CHAPTER  II. 

"ye  gods!  my  wife  looked  like  a  man!" 

That  evening — the  evening  of  my  marriage-day — I  beheld 
a  strange  and  remarkable  spectacle.  It  was  after  dinner  in 
our  private  sitting-room  (we  had  engaged  apartments  at  a  very 
charming  hotel  down  at  Tenby,  where  we  meant  to  pass  the 
honey-moon),  and  my  wife  had  just  left  me,  saying  she  would 
return  in  an  instant.  I  drew  a  chair  up  to  the  window  and 
gazed  at  the  sea ;  and,  after  a  little  while,  I  felt  in  my  pocket 
and  pulled  out  my  cigar-case.  I  looked  at  it  affectionately, 
but  I  resisted  the  temptation  to  smoke.  I  made  up  my  mind 
that  I  would  not  be  the  first  to  suggest  the  idea  to  Honoria. 


MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE!  g 

For  if  she  /lad  fallen  into  such  an  unwomanly  vice,  then  it  was 
clearly  my  duty  as  her  husband  to  get  her  out  of  it.  Here 
some  captious  readers  may  say:  "Well,  if  you  didn't  mind 
her  going  about  with  a  gun,  you  ought  to  have  been  prepared 
for  her  having  other  masculine  accomplishments  as  well." 
Now,  just  allow  me  to  explain.  I  i/ic/  mind  her  going  about 
with  a  gun ;  I  minded  it  very  much ;  but  then,  I  was  always 
an  old-fashioned  sort  of  fellow  with  old-fashioned  notions  (I 
am  trying  to  break  myself  of  them  by  degrees),  and  one  of 
these  notions  was  a  deep  respect  and  chivalrous  homage  for 
the  ladies  of  the  English  aristocracy.  I  believed  them  to  be 
the  ncpliis  ultra  of  everything  noble  and  grand  in  woman,  and 
I  felt  that  whatever  they  did  must  be  right,  and  not  only  right, 
but  perfectly  well-bred,  since  it  is  their  business  and  preroga- 
tive to  furnish  models  of  excellent  behavior  to  all  their  sex. 
And  when  Honoria  was  still  Miss  Maggs,  and  made  her  mark 
as  a  sportswoman,  she  was  only  imitating  the  example  (for 
I  read  it  in  the  society  papers)  of  three  of  the  most  exalted 
ladies  of  title  in  the  land.  Moreover,  I  thought  that  after  all 
it  was  merely  a  high-spirited  girl's  freak,  just  to  show  that 
she  could,  on  occasion,  shoot  as  well  as  a  man.  I  felt  quite 
sure  that  when  Miss  Maggs  became  Mrs.  Hatwell-Tribkin 
(William  Hatwell-Tribkin  is  my  name),  she  would,  to  speak 
poetically,  lay  aside  the  gun  for  the  needle,  and  the  game-bag 
for  the  household  linen.  Such  was  my  limited  conception 
of  the  female  temperament  and  intelligence.  But  I  know 
better  now !  And  since  I  have  learned  that  the  "  highest 
ladies  in  the  land"  smoke  as  well  as  shoot — well,  I  will  not  say 
openly  what  I  think!  I  will  merely  assure  those  who  may  be 
interested  in  my  feelings  on  the  subject,  that  I  have  now  no 
old-fashioned  partiality  whatever  for  such  aristocratic  person- 
ages ;  let  them  do  as  they  like  and  sink  to  whatever  level  they 
choose,  only  for  Heaven's  sake  let  them  not  be  taken  as  the 
best  examples  we  can  show  of  England's  wives  and  mothers! 
Several  persons  who  have  recently  aired  their  opinion  in  the 
roomy  columns  of  the  "  Daily  Telegraph"  (all  honor  to  that 
blessed  journal,  which  provides  so  wide  and  liberal  a  pasture 
Xoxidi gratis  for  sheep-like  souls  to  graze  upon !)  have  advocated 
smoking  for  women  as  a  perfectly  harmless  and  innocent  en- 
joyment, tending  to  promote  pleasant  good-fellowship  between 
the  sexes.  All  I  can  say  is,  let  one  of  these  special  pleaders 
marry  an  inveterate  woman-smoker,  and  try  itl 


10  MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE! 

The  evening  of  one's  marriage-day  is  not  exactly  an  evening 
to  quarrel  upon,  and  so  I  could  not  quarrel  with  Honoria, 
when  she  treated  me  to  the  amazing  spectacle  alluded  to  at 
the  commencement  of  this  chapter — the  spectacle  of  herself, 
transformed.  She  came  back  into  the  sitting-room  with  that 
cheerful,  wholesome  laugh  of  hers  (Oscar  Wilde  and  others 
might  think  it  a  trifle  too  loud,  still  it  was  lively),  and  said: 

"  Now  I'm  comfortable !  Got  a  chair  for  me?  That's  right! 
Push  it  up  in  that  corner,  and  let's  be  chummy!" 

I  gazed  at  her  as  she  spoke,  and  my  voice  died  away  in  my 
throat;  I  could  almost  feel  my  hair  rising  slowly  from  my 
scalp  in  amazement  and  horror.  What— w/z^z/  did  my  Honoria 
^my  bride,  whom  I  had  lately  seen  a  rustling  vision  of  white 
silk  and  lace  and  orange-blossoms,  what  did  she  look  like? 
Like  a  vian  !  Ye  gods !  yes,  though  she  had  petticoats  on — like 
a  man  !  She  had  changed  her  pretty  traveling-dress  for  a  short 
and  extremely  scanty  brown  tweed  skirt;  with  this  she  wore 
a  very  racy-looking  jacket  of  coarse  flannel,  patterned  all 
over  with  large  horseshoes  on  a  blue  ground.  On  her  head 
she  had  perched  a  red  smoking-cap  with  a  long  tassel  that 
bobbed  over  her  left  eyebrow,  and  she  surveyed  me  as  she  sat 
down  with  an  air  of  bland  consciousness,  as  though  her  cos- 
tume were  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world.  I  said  noth- 
ing; she  did  not  expect  me  to  say  anything,  I  suppose.  She 
glanced  at  the  sea,  shining  with  a  lovely  purple  in  the  evening 
light,  and  said  briefly : 

"  Looks  dull  rather,  doesn't  it?  Wants  a  few  racers  about. 
Fancy !  I  had  no  yachting  this  year — all  the  boys  went  away 
to  Ireland  instead." 

"  What  boys?"  I  murmured,  faintly,  still  staring  at  her  with 
dazed,  bewildered  eyes.  She  was  a  boy  herself,  or  very  like 
one! 

Again  that  cheerful  laugh  vibrated  in  my  ears. 

"  What  boys?  Good  gracious,  Willie,  if  I  were  to  run  over 
all  their  names,  it  would  be  like  a  hotel  visitors'  list!  I  mean 
the  boys.  All  the  men  who  used  to  take  me  about,  don't  you 
know?" 

A  kind  of  resolution  fired  my  blood  at  this. 

"  They  will  hardly  take  you  about  now,"  I  said,  with,  I  hope, 
a  gentle  severity.  "  You  are  married  now,  Honoria,  and  it 
will  be  my  proud  privilege  to  take  you  about,  so  that  we  shall 
be  able  to  dispense  with  the  boys" 


MY    WONDERFUL   WIFE!  II 

"  Oh,  certainly,  if  you  like,"  she  replied,  smiling  unconcern- 
edly; "only  you'll  soon  get  tired  of  it,  I  expect!  We  can't 
always  hunt  in  couples — Darby  and  Joan  sort  of  thing — 
awfully  bad  form  ;  must  go  different  ways  sometimes.  You'll 
get  sick  to  death  of  always  doing  the  different  seasons  with 
me." 

"  Never,  Honoria!"  I  said,  firmly.  "I  shall  be  perfectly 
happy  with  you  forever  at  my  side;  perfectly  contented  to  be 
seen  always  in  your  company !" 

"  Really !"  and  she  raised  her  eyebrows  a  little,  then  laughed 
again,  and  added,  coaxingly :  "  Don't  be  spooney,  Will,  there's 
a  good  fellow!  I  do  hate  being  spooned  upon— you  know! 
Let  us  be  as  jolly  as  you  like ;  but  though  we  are  just  married, 
don't  let  people  take  us  for  a  pair  of  fools !" 

"  I  fail  to  understand  your  meaning,  Honoria,"!  said,  rather 
vexedly.  "  Why  should  we  be  taken  for  fools.?  I  really  can 
not  see — " 

"  Oh,  you  know,"  laughed  my  boyish-looking  wife,  diving 
into  one  of  her  capacious  jacket-pockets  in  search  of  a  some- 
thing— I  instinctively  knew  what  it  v/as.  Yes,  there,  out  it 
came !  No  cigarette-case  this  time,  but  one  full  of  cigars,  and 
I  at  once  rose  to  the  occasion  with  a  manly  fortitude  that,  I 
trust,  did  not  ill  become  me. 

"Honoria,"  I  said,  "Honoria,  my  dear,  my  darling!  Do 
oblige  me  by  not  smoking;  not  this  evening,  at  any  rate!  I 
shall  not  be  able  to  bear  the  sight  of  a  cigar  in  your  sweet 
mouth;  I  shall  not  indeed.  I  atn  a  'spooney'  fellow,  perhaps, 
but  I  love  you  and  admire  you,  my  dear,  too  much  to  let  you 
appear  even  before  my  eyes  at  a  disadvantage.  It  is  not  good 
for  your  health,  I  assure  you!  It  will  spoil  your  pretty  teeth 
and  play  havoc  with  your  nerves;  and,  besides  this,  Honoria, 
it  is  not  a  nice  thing  for  a  woman,  especially  an  English 
woman.  It  is  all  very  well  for  ugly  Russian  matrons  and 
withered  old  Spanish  gypsies,  but  for  a  young,  bonny,  fresh 
creature  like  you,  Honoria,  it  is  not  the  thing,  believe  me ! 
Moreover,  it  gives  you  a  masculine  appearance,  which  is  not 
at  all  becoming.  I  am  in  earnest,  my  dear !  I  want  my  wife 
to  be  above  all  things  womanly,  and  now  we  are  married  I 
can  tell  you  frankly  I  hope  you  will  never  take  a  gun  in  your 
hands  again.  It  was  very  plucky  of  you  to  show  that  you 
could  shoot,  you  know,  Honoria.  I  admired  your  spirit,  but, 
of  course,  I  always  knew  you  only  did  it  for  fun.     A  woman 


12  MY    WONDERFUL   WIFE! 

can  never  be  an  actual  follower  of  sport,  any  more  than  she 
can  become  a  practiced  smoker,  without  losing  the  beautiful 
prestige  of  modesty  and  dignity  with  which  Nature  has  en- 
dowed her." 

Thus  far  Honoria  had  listened  to  me  in  absolute  silence,  a 
smile  on  her  lips  and  her  cigar-case  still  open  in  her  hand. 
Now,  however,  she  gave  way  to  unfeigned  and  irrepressible 
laughter. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  she  exclaimed,  "  I  never  heard  a  better 
bit  of  sentimental  palaver  than  that !  Willie,  you  are  a  goose ! 
For  pity's  sake,  don't  talk  such  old-fashioned  nonsense  to  me. 
I'm  past  it.  Georgie  might  like  that  sort  of  thing"  (Georgie 
was  my  wife's  youngest  sister,  a  timid  little  morsel  of  a 
woman  I  had  always  despised),  "but  I  thought  you  knew  me 
better.  Come,  you're  longing  to  have  a  smoke  yourself,  you 
know  you  are  !  Here !"  and  she  held  out  her  cigar-case  with 
the  most  brilliant  smile  in  the  world.  "  You  won't?  Don't 
be  a  mule,  now!"  and  she  whipped  out  of  her  side-pocket  a 
tiny  silver  match-box,  lighted  a  cigar,  and  again  proffered  it 
to  me.  I  took  it  mechanically.  I  should  have  been  a  brute 
to  refuse  her  on  that  evening  of  all  evenings;  but  I  still 
remonstrated  feebly. 

"  Honoria,  I  don't  like  it—" 

"You  don't  like  what?"  she  inquired,  mirthfully.  "The 
cigar?    Then  you  don't  know  the  flavor  of  good  tobacco!" 

"  No,  no,  I  don't  mean  the  cigar,"  I  said,  puffing  at  it  slowly 
as  I  spoke;  "it  is  an  exceedingly  choice  cigar,  in  fact,  re- 
markably so;  but  I  don't  like yoi/r  smoking  one." 

And  I  watched  her  in  melancholy  amaze  as  she  placed  a 

I  similar  cigar  to  my  own  between  her  rosy  lips  and  began  to 

puff  away  in  evident  delight.     "  I  don't  like  your  smoking,"  I 

repeated,  earnestly.     "No,  Honoria,  I  do  not/    I  shall  never 

like  it!" 

"  Then  you're  very  selfish,"  she  returned,  with  perfect  good- 
humor.  "  You  wish  to  deprive  your  wife  of  a  pleasure  you 
indulge  in  yourself." 

Now,  there  was  a  v/ay  of  putting  it ! 

"  But,  Honoria,"  I  urged,  "  surely,  surely  men  are  permitted 
to  do  many  things  which,  pardon  me,  are  hardly  fitted  for  the 
finer  susceptibilities  of  women?" 

She  flicked  off  the  ash  from  her  "  weed"  with  her  little  fin- 
ger, settled  her  smoking-cap,  and  smiled  a  superior  smile. 


MY    WONDERFUL   WIFE!  I3 

"Not  a  bit  of  it!"  she  replied.  "  Once,  in  those  detestable 
'good  old  times'  some  people  are  always  talking  about,  men 
were  permitted  to  keep  women  out  of  every  sort  of  enjoyment, 
and  nice  tyrants  they  were!  But  now,  nous  avons  change^ tout 
cela" — she  had  a  very  charming  French  accent  by  the  way — 
"  and  we  are  no  longer  the  drudges,  housekeepers,  general 
servants,  and  nurses  that  adorned  that  by-gone  age  of  dark- 
ness !  We  are  the  equals  of  man.  What  he  can  do,  we  can 
do  as  well,  and  often  better;  we  are  his  companions  now,  not 
his  slaves.     For  instance,  here  am  I — your  wife — am  I  not?" 

"Just  so,  Honoria,"  I  murmured.  What  an  excellent  cigar 
she  had  given  me,  to  be  sure!  "  You  are  indeed  my  wife,  my 
very  dearly  beloved  wife — " 

"  Don't!"  she  interrupted.     "  It  sounds  like  an  epitaph." 

I  laughed — it  was  impossible  to  help  laughing.  She  was 
such  a  whimsical  creature,  such  an  extraordinary  girl!  She 
laughed  too,  and  went  on : 

"  Suppose  I  had  lived,  and  suppose  you  had  lived  in  the 
'good  old  times,'  Willie,  do  you  know  what  we  should  have 
done?" 

I  shook  my  head  drowsily  in  the  negative,  and  blinked  my 
eyes  at  her  in  bland  admiration.  (That  cigar  was  really  first 
class,  and  it  was  gradually  having  a  softening  influence  on  my 
brain.) 

"We  should  have  ^/tv/ of  dullness,"  she  declared,  emphati- 
cally. "  Just  died  of  it !  We  could  never  have  borne  it. 
Fancy !  I  should  have  been  shut  up  nearly  all  day  in  the  house, 
with  a  huge  apron  on,  sorting  jams  and  pickles,  and  counting 
over  the  sheets  and  pillow-cases  like  a  silly  old  noodle,  and 
you  would  have  tumbled  home  drunk  regularly  every  after- 
noon, and  gone  to  bed  under  the  table  every  evening!" 

She  nodded  her  head  decisively  and  the  tassel  of  her  smok- 
ing-cap  came  down  over  her  nose.  She  cast  it  off  defiantly 
and  looked  at  me  with  such  a  twinkling  mischief  in  her  eyes 
that  I  fairly  roared. 

"  That  last  part  of  the  daily  entertainment  would  have  been 
lively,  Honoria,"  I  giggled  convulsively — "lively  for  tne  at 
any  rate!" 

"No,  it  wouldn't,"  she  said.  "You've  no  idea  how  tired 
you'd  have  got  of  being  continually  drunk!  It  might  be  all 
Very  well  for  a  time,  but  you  would  have  wanted  a  change. 
And  in  that  period,  there  was  no  change  possible !    A  man  and 


14  MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE! 

his  wife  had  to  jog  on  together  for  ever  and  a  day — Amen  to 
it! — without  a  single  distraction  to  mar  the  domestic  bliss  of 
the  awful  years !     Domestic  bliss — ugh !  it  makes  me  shudder !" 

I  grew  suddenly  serious.  "  Why,  surely,  Honoria,"  I  said, 
"you  believe  in  domestic  bliss,  don't  you?" 

"  Certainly  not !  Good  gracious,  no !  What  on  earth  is 
domestic  bliss  all  about?  I've  studied  it,  I  assure  you.  I'll 
tell  you  what  it  is.  In  winter,  the  united  members  of  a  large 
family  sit  solemnly  round  the  fire  and  roast  chestnuts  to  the 
tune  of  'Home,  Sweet  Home,'  played  by  the  youngest  boy  on 
the  old  harmonium  (harmonit:m  that  belonged  to  darling  dear 
grandmamma,  you  know) ;  in  summer  they  all  go  down  to  the 
sea-side  (still  fondly  united)  and  sit  in  a  ring  on  the  hot  sand, 
reading  antediluvian  novels,  quite  happy !  and  so  good,  and  so 
devoted  to  one  another,  and  ^i?  ugly,  most  of  them;  no  wonder 
they  can  never  get  any  other  company  than  their  own !" 

She  puffed  away  at  her  cigar  quite  fiercely,  and  her  eyes 
twinkled  again.  As  for  me,  I  was  off  once  more  in  an  uncon- 
trollable fit  of  laughter. 

"  Honoria,  Honoria !"  I  gasped,  "  what  a  droll  girl  you  are ; 
where  do  you  get  your  ideas  from?" 

"  Can't  imagine,"  she  replied,  smilingly.  "  They  come. 
Inspiration,  I  suppose,  as  the  tousle-haired  'geniuses'  say. 
But  I  am  jolly — I  believe  there's  no  denying  that.  You'll  find 
me  quite  a  good  fellow,  don't  you  know,  when  you've  once 
got  accustomed  to  my  ways.  But  I  may  as  well  tell  you  at 
once  that  it's  no  use  your  expecting  me  to  give  up  my  smoke. 
It's  possible  I  may  get  tired  of  shooting;  when  I  do  I'll  let  you 
know.  And  one  word  more,  old  boy — don't  preach  at  me 
again,  will  you?  Can't  bear  being  preached  at ;  never  could. 
Say  right  out  what  you  mean  without  sentiment,  and  we'll  see 
how  we  can  settle  it.  I  never  lose  temper — waste  of  time. 
Much  better  to  come  to  a  calm  understanding  about  every- 
thing— think  so?" 

I  agreed  heartily,  and  would  have  kissed  her,  but  that  vile 
cigar  stuck  out  of  her  mouth  and  prevented  me.  Besides,  I 
was  smoking  my  own  particular  "  vile,"  and  it  was  no  use  dis- 
turbing myself  or  her  just  then.  Moreover,  did  she  not  evince 
a  wholesome  dislike  of  sentiment?  And  is  not  kissing  a  senti- 
mental business,  totally  unsuited  to  the  advanced  intelligence 
of  the  advanced  woman  of  our  advancing  day? 


MY   WONDERFUL  WIFE!  IJ 


CHAPTER  III. 

MY   WIFE   SHOWS    HER   SPORTING    PROCLIVITIES. 

Honey-moons  are  generally  supposed  to  be  the  briefest  of 
'  all  moons,  and  mine  was  particularly  so,  as  it  only  lasted  a 
fortnight.  I  will  not  attempt  to  describe  the  chronic  state  of 
wonder,  doubt,  affection,  dismay,  admiration,  and  vague  alarm 
in  which  I  passed  it.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  was  all  the  time 
in  the  company  of  a  very  cheerful,  good-tempered  lad  just 
home  from  his  college  for  the  holidays.  I  knew  this  "  lad"  was 
a  woman  and  my  wife,  but  somehow,  as  the  Americans  say,  I 
couldn't  "fix"  it.  At  the  end  of  our  recognized  "spooney" 
season,  we  returned  to  our  own  house  in  Kensington,  a  com- 
fortable dwelling,  luxuriously  furnished,  and  provided  with 
all  the  modern  improvements,  electric  lights  included,  and 
settled  down  to  the  serious  realization  of  our  married  exist- 
ence. We  had  hosts  of  friends;  too  many  friends,  I  thought. 
We  certainly  could  not  boast  of  a  "  quiet"  home,  neither  could 
we  be  accused  of  indulging  in  the  guilty  tameness  of  "  domes- 
tic bliss."  All  "  the  boys"  fraternized  with  me;  those  "  boys" 
who  before  Honoria's  marriage  had  been,  she  assured  me,  like 
so  many  brothers  to  her.  They  were  most  of  them  young 
men,  none  of  them  above  thirty,  and  I  was  approaching  my 
fortieth  birthday.  Moreover,  I  had  the  sundry  cares  of  the 
business  of  living  upon  me ;  the  "  Battle  of  Life"  (I  have  to 
thank  the  noble  "  Daily  Telegraph"  for  this  admirable  and  en- 
tirely new  expression)  had  to  be  fought  by  me  single-handed, 
and  this  gave  me  the  appearance  of  being  older  than  I  actually 
was.  In  fact  "  the  boys"  seemed  to  consider  me  a  sort  of 
hsivm\QSS  paterfamilias;  but  I  myself  often  wondered  whether 
I  was  not  more  like  the  meek  proprietor  of  an  exceptionally 
convenient  hotel,  where  bachelors  under  thirty  might  find 
board,  lodging,  and  good  entertainment  free  of  charge.  At 
first,  I  did  not  feel  my  position  so  keenly,  because  really  "  the 
boys"  were  not  bad  fellows.  They  were  like  young  colts, 
frisky  and  full  of  fun.  They  were  fools  undoubtedly,  but  they 
were  not  knaves,  and  to  this  day  I  don't  think  there  was  an 
ounce  of  wit  among  them,  so  that  they  lacked  the  means  to  be 
seriously  mischievous;  in  fact,  there  was  no  malice  about 
them,   they   were  too   absolutely   silly   for   that — more   like 


l6  MY  WONDERFUL  WIFE! 

BrobdingTiagian  babies  than  men.  They  had  a  great  many 
old  associations  with  Honoria.  Many  of  them  had  known  her 
long  before  I  did,  and  one  of  these  declared  to  me  joyously 
that  "  it  was  no  end  of  a  lark,  dontcherknow,  to  think  she  was 
married!"  I  would  have  sought  an  explanation  from  this 
vivacious  and  muscular  youth  (he  was  over  six  feet  high)  as  to 
his  reasons  for  considering  it  "no  end  of  a  lark,"  but  that  he 
was  such  an  utterly  brainless  "  boy,"  such  a  cheerfully  con- 
fessed and  openly  advertised  donkey,  that  I  saw  at  once  it 
would  be  no  use  asking  him  any  questions  that  did  not  lead  up 
somehow  or  other  to  a  discussion  on  lawn-tennis,  which  was 
the  only  subject  in  earth  or  heaven  that  appealed  to  his  minute 
fragment  of  intellect.  There  was  just  one  other  individual 
who  surpassed  him  in  fatuous  foolishness ;  this  was  a  "  boy" 
with  heavy  mustaches,  whose  sole  delight  in  life  was  to 
"  scull."  Sculling  up  and  down  the  river,  sculling  here,  scull- 
ing there  (with  a  very  useless  skull  of  his  own,  Heaven  knows ! 
excuse  the  unintentional  pun),  his  pride  and  joy  were  concen- 
trated in  the  steady  work  of  strengthening  his  muscles  and 
reducing  his  brain  by  swift  degrees  from  the  little  to  the  in- 
finitely less.  He  had  fine  eyes,  this  "  boy,"  and  his  mustaches, 
"long,  silky,  and  sweeping"  (z;/^^  "  Ouida"),  threw  all  little 
school-girls  and  inexperienced  house-maids  into  ecstasies  of 
admiration.  He  looked  very  well  in  his  white  boating  flan- 
nels; so  well,  that  he  was,  by  some  rash  persons  who  did  not 
know  him,  judged  intelligent,  but,  to  speak  with  exactitude, 
a  more  hopeless  idiot  never  existed.  He  was  such  an  over- 
powering polite  idiot  too,  exceedingly  deferential  to  me,  and 
automatically  courteous  to  every  one,  though  he  always 
maintained  that  delightfully  funny  air  of  coy  reserve  which 
very  good-looking  young  men  sometimes  assume,  that  air 
which  is  meant  as  a  mild  touch-me-not  or  warner-off  to  over- 
susceptible  ladies — for  these  sort  of  absurd  fellows  generally 
flatter  themselves  that  every  woman  who  sees  them  is  bound 
to  fall  in  love  with  them  on  the  spot.  This  particular  "  boy' 
was  constantly  in  and  out  of  our  house ;  he  liked  Honoria  be- 
cause she  made  such  game  of  him  and  his  stand-ofP.sh  manner. 
I  suppose  the  poor  devil  was  so  flattered  everywhere  else  (on 
account  of  those  mustaches)  that  he  found  some  comfort  in 
being  ridiculed  now  and  then.  And  my  wife  had  a  great 
talent  for  ridicule,  an  immense  and  ever-developing  talent; 
she  "  chaffed"  people  unmercifully ;   in  fact,  after  the  novelty 


MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE!  1 7 

of  our  marriage  had  worn  ofiE  a  bit,  she  began  to  "  chaff"  me. 
I  am  bound  to  confess  I  did  not  quite  like  this,  but  I  forbore 
to  complain — she  had  such  high  spirits,  I  thought,  and  she  did 
not  really  mean  to  wound  my  feelings. 

However,  taking  it  all  in  all,  home  was  not  the  home  I  had 
hoped  for.  There  .was  no  repose  in  it — no  relief  from  the 
business  fatigues  and  worries  of  the  day.  And  the  whole 
place  was  always  horribly  redolent  of  tobacco — tobacco  smoke 
permeated  every  room  in  it,  including  even  the  big  dining- 
room — and  the  smell  of  cigars  was  in  my  nostrils  morning, 
noon,  and  night.  All  those  "  boys"  smoked,  of  course ;  they 
were  very  friendly,  and  used  to  sit  chatting  away  with  me 
after  dinner  till  long  past  midnight  (Honoria  being  of  the 
party).  I  could  scarcely  turn  them  out  without  being  rude, 
and  naturally  I  did  not  wish  to  be  rude  to  my  wife's  old 
friends.  I  had  my  own  friends  also,  but  they  were  men  of  a 
different  stamp.  They  were  older,  more  serious,  more  settled 
in  their  modes  of  life ;  they  liked  to  talk  on  the  politics,  prog- 
ress, and  science  of  the  age;  and  though  they  admired 
Honoria  (for  she  could  converse  well  on  any  subject),  they 
could  not  get  on  with  the  "  boys,"  no,  not  with  any  of  them. 
So  one  by  one  they  dropped  off,  and  by  and  by  a  sort  of  deso- 
late shut-out  feeling  began  to  steal  over  me — and  I  wondered 
ruefully  if  I  should  be  obliged  to  go  on  living  like  this  for  the 
rest  of  my  days?  I  sat  down  in  my  arm-chair  one  evening  and 
seriously  considered  my  position.  Honoria  was  out ;  she  had 
gone  to  supper  with  her  friehd  Mrs.  Stirling,  of  Glen  Ruach 
(the  misguided  woman  who  had  presented  her  with  that  wed- 
ding-gift of  the  cigar  and  ash-tray),  who  was  staying  in  Lon- 
don for  a  couple  of  weeks,  and  I  knew  they  and  their  "  set" 
would  make  a  night  of  it.  I  had  not  been  asked  to  join  the 
party — I  was  evidently  not  wanted.  I  sat,  as  I  said,  in  my 
chair,  and  looked  at  the  fire;  it  was  cold  weather,  and  the 
wind  whistled  drearily  outside  the  windows,  and  I  took  to 
hard  and  earnest  thinking.  Was  I  happy  in  my  married  life? 
No!  most  emphatically  «^.^  But  why?  I  asked  myself.  What 
prevented  my  happiness?  Honoria  was  a  bright  woman,  a 
clever  woman,  handsome,  good-tempered,  and  cheerful  as  the 
day,  never  ill,  never  dull,  never  cross.  What  on  earth  was 
my  complaint?  I  sighed  heavily;  I  felt  I  was  unreasonable ; 
and  yet,  I  had  certainly  missed  something  out  of  my  life — 
something  I  felt  the  want  of  now.     Was  it  the  frequent  visita- 


l8  MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE! 

tions  of  "  the  boys"  that  fretted  my  mind?  No,  not  exactly, 
for,  as  I  said  before,  they  were  thoroughly  harmless  fellows. 
And  as  for  Honoria  herself,  whatever  her  faults  (or  what  I 
considered  her  faults)  might  be,  she  was  good  as  gold,  with  a 
frank,  almost  blunt  straightforwardness  and  honesty  about  her 
that  was  really  admirable — in  fact,  she  was  the  kind  of  woman 
to  knock  down  a  man  who  would  have  dared  to  offer  her  any 
insult;  and  thus  far  her  "  mannishness"  set  her  above  all  sus- 
picion of  deceit  or  infidelity.  It  was  impossible  to  doubt  her 
word — she  never  told  a  lie — and  she  had  a  sort  of  military- 
disciplined  idea  of  honor,  rare  to  find  in  the  feminine  nature. 
Yes,  her  sterling  virtue  was  unquestionable.  What  qualities, 
then,  did  she  lack?  Why  did  I  feel  that  she  was  in  a  way  re- 
moved from  me,  and  that  instead  of  having  a  woman  by  my 
side  I  had  a  sort  of  hybrid  human  growth  which  was  neither 
man  nor  woman — which  confused  and  perplexed  me  instead 
of  helping  and  comforting  me,  and  which  filled  me  with  sur- 
prise rather  than  respect?  Again  I  sighed,  and  stirring  the 
smoldering  fire  into  a  blaze  watched  its  flickering  flashes  on 
the  wall  of  the  room.  It  was  a  large  room — we  called  it  the 
library,  because  there  were  books  in  it.  Not  rare  volumes,  by 
any  means,  still  what  there  were  I  liked ;  in  fact  they  were 
mostly  mine.  My  wife  read  nothing  but  the  newspapers ;  she 
devoured  the  "  Referee"  on  Sundays  and  she  took  the  "  Sport- 
ing Times"  because  she  always  had  certain  bets  on  certain 
racing  events.  Needless  to  say,  I  objected  to  her  betting,  but 
with  no  result  beyond  the  usual  laugh,  and  the  usual  "  Don't 
be  a  goose,  Willie;  it's  all  right!  I  never  bet  with  your 
money!"  Which  was  true  enough.  She  had  turned  out  an- 
other sporting  novel  at  a  "  dead  heat,"  as  she  herself  expressed 
it;  the  publisher  had  paid  her  well  for  it,  and  she  certainly 
had  every  right  to  do  as  she  liked  with  her  own  earnings. 
Moreover,  she  generally  won  her  bets,  that  was  the  odd  part 
of  it ;  she  seemed  to  have  an  instinctive  faculty  for  winning. 
Her  losses  were  always  small,  her  gains  always  large.  In 
fact,  as  I  have  already  remarked,  she  was  a  wonderful  woman ! 
Apropos  of  this  last  novel  of  hers,  I  reflected  uneasily  that 
I  had  not  yet  read  a  word  of  it.  It  was  only  just  published, 
I  had  seen  no  reviews  of  it,  and  she  seemed  to  attach  no  im- 
portance to  it  herself.  She  had  no  real  love  for  literature ; 
she  called  all  the  ancient  classic  writers  "  old  bores,"  and  all 
the  works  of  the  after-giants,  such  as  Shakespeare,  Byron, 


MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE!  1 9 

Shelley,  Walter  Scott,  Dickens,  or  Thackeray,  "  stuff  and  ru1> 
bish,"  S/ie  wrote  a  novel  as  she  wrote  a  letter — almost  with- 
out taking  thought,  and  certainly  without  correction.  She 
would  hand  the  proofs  over  to  one  of  "  the  boys"  who  knew  all 
about  sporting  terms,  that  he  might  see  whether  her  slang  was 
correct,  and  when  his  hall-mark  said  (as  it  did  once,  for  I  saw 
it  penciled  on  the  margin  of  a  chapter),  "  Bully  for  you!"  off 
the  whole  thing  went  to  the  publisher  without  further  anxiety 
or  trouble  on  her  part.  And  when  people  said  to  me,  sweetly, 
"  Your  wife  is  quite  a  literary  genius !'  in  the  usual  humbug- 
ging way  of  polite  society,  I  was  very  well  aware  that  they 
didn't  mean  it ;  I  knew  in  my  very  heart  of  hearts  that  Honoria, 
judged  strictly  from  an  art  and  letters  point  of  view,  was  a 
/ra/^d!'— positively  a.  fraud f  The  thought  stabbed  me  to  the 
soul,  but  still  I  had  to  think  it  if  I  would  be  at  peace  with  my 
own  conscience.  I  am  not  a  clever  man  myself,  yet  I  know 
very  well  what  female  literary  "  genius"  is.  We  have  it  in  the 
poems  of  Elizabeth  Barrett  and  the  romances  of  Georges 
Sand,  and  when  we  consider  the  imperishable  work  of  such 
women  as  these,  the  sporting  novels  of  even  a  Honoria  Hat- 
well-Tribkin  sink  into  shadowy  insignificance!  And  I  am  a 
great  believer  in  woman's  literary  capability.  I  think  that, 
given  a  woman  with  a  keen  instinct,  close  observation,  and 
large  sympathies,  she  ought  to  be  able  to  produce  greater 
masterpieces  of  literature  than  a  man.  But  there  is  no  neces- 
sity for  her  to  part  with  her  womanly  gentleness  because  she 
writes.  No,  for  it  is  just  that  subtle  charm  of  her  finer  sex 
that  should  give  the  superiority  to  her  work — not  the  stripping 
herself  of  all  those  delicate  and  sensitive  qualities  bestowed  on 
her  by  Nature,  and  the  striving  to  ape  that  masculine  rough- 
ness which  is  precisely  what  we  want  eliminated  from  all  high 
ideals  of  art.  But,  as  I  have  hinted,  it  was  absurd  to  call  my 
wife  "  literary ;"  she  was  a  mere  scribbler  of  sporting  plati- 
tudes, and  I  have  only  been  led  on  to  speak  of  her  entering  the 
ranks  of  pen  and  ink  at  all  because  (on  referring  to  some  back 
numbers  of  the  "  Daily  Telegram")  I  understand  that  there  are 
a  few  uninstructed  persons  about,  in  the  shape  of  "  London 
clergymen"  and  others,  who  think  that  women  who  write 
books  are  therefore  rendered  unwomanly.  Never  was  there  a 
greater  mistake.  One  of  the  sweetest  and  most  womanly 
women  I  ever  met  is  rapidly  coming  to  the  front  as  a  most 
gifted  and  brilliant  writer.     She  neither  smokes  nor  keepy 


20  MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE!  i 

late  hours;  she  does  not  hunt,  or  fish,  or  shoot;  she  dresses 
exquisitely ;  her  voice  is  "  low  and  sweet"  as  "  Annie  Laurie's," 
and  the  roughest  man  of  her  particular  circle — one  who  has 
been  called  the  "  Ursa  Majoi"  of  literature — becomes  the  soft- 
est and  most  courtly /r^'z/^:  chevalier  in  her  presence,  much  to 
the  relief  and  satisfaction  of  all  his  and  her  friends.  To  my 
idea  the  "  mannish"  woman  should  be  altogether  debarred 
from  entering  into  the  profession  of  literature,  inasmuch  as 
she  can  do  no  good  whatever  in  it.  She  takes  a  wrong  view 
of  life ;  her  theories  are  all  at  sixes  and  sevens ;  she  mixes  up 
her  rights  and  privileges  with  those  of  the  coarser  sex  till 
she  does  not  know  which  is  which ;  she  has  willfully  blunted 
all  her  finer  susceptibilities,  and  is  therefore  practically  use- 
less as  a  thinker-out  of  high  problems,  or  a  consoler  to  her 
fellow-creatures.  Literature  of  itself  does  not  unsex  a  woman ; 
its  proper  influence  is  a  softening,  dignifying,  and  ennobling 
one ;  therefore  if,  in  that  calling,  a  woman  proves  herself  un- 
womanly in  her  speech,  manners,  and  customs,  you  may  be 
sure  the  unsexing  process  was  pretty  well  completed  before 
she  ever  took  up  the  pen. 

I  was  still  sitting  before  the  fire  in  a  melancholy  mood, 
musing  over  what,  reasonably  or  unreasonably,  I  felt  to  be 
the  desolation  of  my  wedded  existence,  when  I  heard  a  latch- 
key turn  in  the  lock  of  the  street  door — another  instant,  and  a 
firm  step  marching  along  the  outer  passage  assured  me  of  my 
wife's  return.  I  glanced  at  the  clock — it  was  close  upon  mid- 
night. I  had  been  alone  since  dinner-time,  alone  and  melan- 
choly, and  I  felt  more  injured  and  irritated  than  I  cared  to 
fldmit  to  myself.  A  strong  whiff  of  tobacco  heralded  Honoria's 
approach ;  she  entered,  clad  in  a  long  buttoned-up  ulster  and 
cloth  jockey-cap,  her  eyes  brilliant,  her  cheeks  flushed,  and  a 
half-sraoked-out  cigar  in  her  mouth.  A  sudden  anger  pos- 
sessed me.  I  looked  up,  but  did  not  speak.  She  threw  oflE 
her  cloak  and  cap,  and  stood  before  me  in  evening-dress — a 
clinging  gown  of  gray  velvet,  touched  here  and  there  with 
cilver  embroidery. 

"  Well !"  she  said,  cheerfully,  removing  her  cigar  from  her 
Sips  to  puff  out  a  volume  of  smoke,  and  then  sticking  it  in 
again, 

"  Well,"  I  responded,  somewhat  sullenly. 

Her  bright  eyes  opened  wide. 

"Halloo!    All  down  in  the  mouth  and  low  in  the  dumps — 


MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE\  21 

ell,  old  boy?"  and  she  poked  the  fire  into  a  blaze.  "  What'* 
up?  Stocks  queer?  Bank  broken?  Shares  gone  down?  You 
look  like  an  unfortunate  publisher!" 

"  Do  I?"  and  I  averted  my  gaze  from  hers  and  stared  gloom- 
ily into  the  fire. 

"  Yes,"  and  she  gave  that  ringing  laugh  that  somehow  had 
latterly  begun  to  jar  my  nerves.  "  Vou  know  the  man ! — bad- 
times-no-sale-out-of-season-no-demand-in-the-provinces  sort  of 
fellow!  Awful! — and  all  the  while  he's  pocketing  profits  on 
the  sly.  Funny  expression  he  gets  after  long  practice. 
You've  got  it  exactly  just  now !" 

"  Thanks !"  I  said,  curtly. 

She  surveyed  me  wonderingly. 

"  Got  the  toothache?"  she  asked,  with  some  commiseration 
in  her  voice. 

"No." 

"  Headache?" 

"No." 

She  gave  me  a  meditative  side  glance,  still  smoking,  then 
nodded  in  a  wise  and  confidential  manner. 

"  J  know — indigestion !" 

This  was  too  much;  I  jumped  up  from  my  chair  and  faced 
her. 

"No,  Honoria,"  I  said,  in  accents  that  trembled  with  sup- 
pressed excitement — "it  is  not  indigestion!  It  is  nothing  of 
the  kind,  madame !  You  see  before  you  a  broken,  dispirited 
man — a  miserable,  homeless  wretch  who  hasn't  a  moment's 
peace  of  his  life — who  is  disgusted — yes,  disgusted,  Mrs.  Trib- 
kin — at  the  way  you  go  on!  You  are  out  every  day,  more 
often  with  others  than  with  me ;  and  if  you  are  not  out,  the 
house  is  full  of  gorging,  lounging,  grinning  young  fools,  who 
no  doubt  laugh  at  me  (and  at  you  too,  for  that  matter)  in  their 
sleeves.  You  smoke  like — like — a  dragoon  !  Yes !" — I  splut- 
tered this  word  out  desperately,  determined  to  bring  her  to 
book  somehow — "  and  yoii  behave  yourself  altogether  in  a 
fashion  that  /  consider  indecorous  and  unbecoming  to  a  lady 
in  your  position.  I  will  not  have  it,  Honoria!  I  will  NOT 
have  it!  I  have  borne  it  as  long  as  I  can  bear  it.  and  my 
patience  is  quite  exhausted!  I  tell  you  I  am  sick  of  the  smell 
of  tobacco— I  loathe  the  very  sight  of  a  cigar !  Smoking  is  a 
detestable,  vulgar,  and  unwholesome  vice,  and  as  far  as  /  am 
concerned  I  have  done  with  it  forever!    I  used  to  like  a  quiet 


22  MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE! 

smoke  in  the  evening" — here  my  voice  took  on  a  plaintive, 
almost  tearful  wail—"  but  now — now,  Honoria,  I  hate  it!  You 
have  worked  this  change  in  me!  I  have  seen  you  smoking 
morning,  noon,  and  night,  till  my  very  soul  has  been  nause- 
ated by  such  an  unnatural  and  unfeminine  spectacle!  You 
have  robbed  me  of  what  was  once  my  own  peculiar  enjoyment 
—and  I  can  endure  it  no  longer!  I  can  not,  Honoria!  I  will 
NOT  ...    !" 

I  gasped  for  breath,  and  sinking  back  again  in  my  chair, 
glared  steadily  at  the  wall.  I  was  afraid  to  encounter  the 
whimsical  look  of  my  wife's  eye,  lest  I  should  give  way  to 
convulsions  of  wild  laughter — laughter  which  really  would  not 
have  been  far  off  the  verge  of  tears,  I  was  so  thoroughly 
shaken  from  my  usual  self-control. 

"  Whe-e-e-e-w !" — and  the  long  and  dismally  drawn-out 
whistle  she  gave  made  me  glance  at  her  for  a  second.  She 
had  taken  her  cigar  from  her  mouth,  and  was  regarding  me 
fixedly.  "Good  gracious,  Willie!  I  never  did!  Look  here, 
you  know,  this  won't  do  at  all!  I  never  lose  temper — it's  no 
use  your  trying  to  make  me.  /see  what  it  is.  You've  got 
the  fidgets,  and  you  want  to  quarrel  and  make  me  cry  and 
go  off  into  a  fit  of  hysterics,  and  then  pet  me  and  bring  me 
round  again.  But  it  isn't  the  least  bit  of  good  attempting  it. 
leant  do  it — I  can't  work  hysterics  anyhow!  I  never  could 
since  I  grew  up.  I  might  manage  to  scream  once,  if  that 
would  oblige  you,  but  I  knoiv  it  would  scare  the  people  next 
door!  Now,  don't  rant  and  rave  like  Wilson  Barrett  when 
he's  got  his  red  Chatterton  wig  on,  but  be  calm  and  sensible, 
and  tell  us  what's  the  matter." 

She  spoke  like  a  friendly  young  man,  and  I  peered  at  her 
doubtfully. 

"  Honoria,"  I  began,  then  my  feelings  got  the  better  of  me 
again,  and  I  muttered:  "No,  no!  it  is  too  much!  I  will 
NOT — I  can  not  be  calm!" 

"  Then  go  to  bed,"  she  said,  soothingly,  laying  one  hand  on 
my  shoulder,  and  looking  quite  benignantly  at  me,  in  spite  of 
my  endeavor  to  bestow  upon  her  a  lordly  scowl.  "  Something's 
upset  you ;  your  liver's  wrong — that  /can  see  in  the  twinkling 
of  an  eye.  I  haven't  studied  medicine  for  nothing!  You 
should  have  taken  a  cooling  draught  and  gone  to  bye-bye" 
(gone  to  bye-bye !  Silly  minx !  did  she  take  me  for  a  baby !) 
"  hours  ago.     Why  did  you  sit  up  for  me?" 


MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE!  23 

I  fixed  my  reproachful  gaze  upon  her  solemnly,  penetrat- 
ingly, axid— quailed!  She  looked  so  handsome,  especially  now 
that  she  had  thrown  away  the  end  of  that  horrible  cigar.  She 
had  such  a  commanding  presence— that  clinging  gray  velvet 
gown  became  her  so  admirably,  and  round  her  full  white 
throat  she  wore  the  diamond  pendant  I  had  given  her  on  our 
wedding-day — a  pendant  containing  a  miniature  portrait  of 
myself.  My  portrait!  She  wore  it— she,  this  stately,  beauti- 
ful young  woman  wore  my  miserable  physiognomy  on  her 
bosom !     My  wrath  melted  into  sudden  maudlin  sentiment. 

"  Honoria,"  I  said,  feebly,  slipping  my  arm  round  her  waist 
— "oh,  Honoria!  if  you  only  loved  vna^' 

She  bent  her  head  toward  mine,  lower  and  lower,  till  her 
lips  almost  touched  my  ear. 

"  Look  here,  old  boy,"  she  then  whispered,  confidentially, 
"you  may  as  well  make  a  clean  breast  of  it!  Have  you — 
have  you  been  at  that  brajidy  I  left  out  on  the  sideboard  V 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A   DISQUISITION    ON   WOMAN   AND   MARRIAGE. 

It  will  now,  I  think,  be  readily  understood  that  Honoria 
was  a  difficult  woman  to  argue  with.  There  was  no  imagina- 
tiveness about  her,  no  romance,  no  sentiment.  If  a  man  gave 
way  to  his  feelings  (as  I  did  on  the  occasion  just  related),  she 
set  his  natural  emotion  down  either  to  indigestion  or  inso- 
briety. The  "  tide  of  passion"— the  "  overflowing  of  the 
human  heart,"  and  all  that  sort  of  thing— belonged,  she  con- 
sidered, to  the  "  stuff  and  rubbish"  books  written  by  Scott, 
Thackeray,  and  Dickens,  or,  worse  still,  suggested  poetry. 
And  if  there  was  anything  in  the  world  Honoria  positively 
hated,  it  was  poetry.  She  didn't  mind  the  "  Ingoldsby  Leg- 
ends" or  the  "  Biglow  Papers,"  but  poetry,  real  poetry,  was  her 
favorite  abomination.  She  always  went  to  sleep  over  a  play 
of  Shakespeare.  The  only  time  I  ever  saw  her  laugh  at  any 
performance  of  the  kind  was  during  Irving's  representation  of 
"  Macbeth."  Then  she  was  in  silent  convulsions  of  mirth. 
Whenever  the  celebrated  Henry  gasped  a  gasp,  or  wriggled  a 
wriggle,  she  seemed  to  be  seized  with  spasms.  But  the  play 
itself  didn't  move  her  one  iota;  she  dozed  off  comfortably  in 


24  MY   WONDERFUL  WIFE! 

the  carriage  going  home,  and  waking  up  suddenly  just  as  we 
reached  our  own  door,  she  demanded : 

"  I  say,  Willie,  what  became  of  the  old  man  who  went  to 
stop  with  Irving  in  his  cardboard  castle?  Never  saw  him 
again !  Wasn't  it  funny?  Must  have  left  out  a  bit  of  the  play 
by  mistake !" 

I  realized  then  that  she  had  never  comprehended  the  leading 
motif  of  the  sublime  tragedy — namely,  the  murder  of  King 
Duncan — and  with  anxious  care  and  labored  precision  I  ex- 
plained it  to  her  as  best  I  could.  She  listened  amiably 
enough,  and  when  I  had  finished,  yawned  capaciously. 

"  Good  gracious !  So  that  was  what  it  was  all  about !  Wei], 
it  didn't  seem  clear  to  7ne !  /thought  Irving  had  stuck  the 
blue  man — the  old  blue  thing  with  a  patch  over  his  eye  that 
came  up  through  a  trap-door  at  dinner-time."  (She  meant 
Banquo's  ghost.)  " I/e  was  funny — awfully  funny!  He  was 
just  the  color  of  a  damp  lucifer  match— you  know,  one  of  those 
things  that  wont  strike,  but  only  fizzle  and  smell !  Anyhow 
it  was  a  muddle,  couldn't  tell  who  was  killed  and  who  wasn't. 
Lovely  last  sprawl  that  of  Irving — looked  as  if  he  were  com- 
ing out  of  his  skin !  I/e  was  done  for — he  was  killed  in  the 
play,  wasn't  he?" 

"  He  was,"  I  assented,  gravely. 

"  That's  all  right!  Hope  he  eat  a  good  supper  afterward! 
Must  make  a  man  peckish  to  work  about  a  big  sword  like  that 
— all  for  nothing,  too !  Poking  at  the  air — just  fancy !  Dread- 
fully exhausting !" 

And  off  she  went  to  bed  with  no  more  notion  of  the  grandeur 
and  terror  and  pathos  of  Shakespeare's  most  awe-inspiring 
production  than  if  she  had  been  a  woman  of  wood !  So  I  hiew 
she  had  no  sentiment  in  her,  and  of  course  I  was  a  fool  to 
expect  any  sympathy  from  her  in  my  hours  of  irritation  or 
despondency.  And  those  hours  were  getting  pretty  frequent, 
but  for  various  reasons  I  held  my  peace  and  made  no  further 
complaints.  I  would  wait,  I  resolved,  and  patiently  watch 
the  course  of  events. 

Events  progressed  onward  as  they  are  prone  to  do,  and  my 
wife  continued  her  independently  masculine  mode  of  living 
without  any  fresh  remonstrances  from  me  just  then.  The 
time  I  had  anticipated  came  at  last,  and  a  boy  was  born  to  us; 
a  remarkably  fine  child — (yes,  I  know!  the  most  weakened 
infant,  if  it  be  the  first-born,  is  always  "remarkably  fine"  io 


MY    WONDERFUL   WIFE!  2$ 

the  opinion  of  its  parents ;  but  this  one  was  not  a  humbug — he 
was  really  and  truly  a  good  specimen) — and  with  his  birth  I 
became  happy  and  hopeful.  vSurely  no7v,  I  thought,  with  a 
swelling  heart — no7v  my  Honoria  will  realize  her  true  position, 
and  will  grow  ashamed  of  those  "  mannish"  habits  which  rob 
a  woman  of  the  refined  grace  and  sweetness  that  should  attach 
to  the  dignity  of  motherhood.  My  spirits  rose.  I  pictured 
my  wife  as  a  different  and  more  lovable  creature,  retaining 
all  her  bright  humor  and  frank  vivacity,  but  gradually  becom- 
ing more  softened  in  character,  and  more  chastened  in  dis- 
position; I  saw  her,  in  my  mind's  eye,  carrying  her  child  in 
her  arms,  and  murmuring  all  that  pretty  baby  nonsense  which 
men  pretend  they  despise,  but  which  in  their  hearts  they 
secretly  love  to  hear,  and  I  built  up  a  veritable  chateau  en 
Espagne  of  home-happiness  as  I  had  never  yet  known  it,  but 
which  I  now  sincerely  believed  I  was  destined  to  enjoy. 

Need  I  say  that  my  hopes  were  doomed  to  disappointment, 
and  that  I  cursed  myself  for  being  such  a  sentimental  ass  as 
to  imagine  they  could  ever  be  realized?  Honoria  was  up  and 
about  again  in  no  time,  and  seemed  almost,  if  not  quite, 
cheerfully  unconscious  of  our  boy's  existence.  He,  poor  mite, 
was  consigned  to  the  care  of  two  nurses — large,  beer-consum- 
ing women  both,  and  ungrammatical  of  speech — and  when  his 
screams  announced  that  all  was  not  going  well  with  his  infant 
career— that  pins  were  being  put  in  the  wrong  places,  or  that 
windy  spasms  were  the  result  of  overfeeding — Honoria  would 
smile  at  me  and  remark,  blandly  : 

"  There's  a  savage  little  brute!  Doesn't  he  roar!  Never 
mind!    Perhaps  he'll  scare  away  the  organ-grinders!" 

In  one  of  these  occasions,  when  my  son's  complaints  were 
so  heart-rending  that  they  threatened  to  lift  the  very  roof  oflE 
the  house  by  sheer  volume  of  sound,  I  said : 

"  Don't  you  think  you'd  better  go  and  see  what's  the  matter, 
Honoria?  It's  not  quite  fair  to  leave  him  entirely  at  the 
mercy  of  the  nurses!" 

"  Why  not?"  she  responded,  composedly.  "  They  under- 
stand him— I  don't.  He's  a  perfect  mystery  to  me.  He 
screams  if  I  touch  him,  and  rolls  right  over  on  his  back  and 
makes  the  most  horrible  faces  at  me  when  I  look  at  him. 
Nurse  says  I  hold  him  wrong — it  seems  to  me  impossible  to 
hold  him  right.  He's  as  soft  as  putty,  and  bruises  every- 
where.    Can't  lay  a  finger  on  him  without  bruising  him  black 


26  MY   WONDERFUL  WIFE! 

and  blue.  You  try  it !  I  wanted  to  amuse  him  yesterday — • 
blew  the  cab  whistle  for  him  as  loud  as  I  could,  and  I  thought 
he  would  have  burst  with  howling.  We  don't  take  to  each 
other  a  bit — isn't  it  funny?  He  doesn't  want  me,  and  I  don't 
want  him — we're  better  apart,  really!" 

"  Honoria,"  I  said  (we  were  at  breakfast,  and  I  rose  from  the 
table  with  an  angry  movement),  "you  are  heartless!  You 
speak  cruelly  and  slightingly  of  the  poor  child.  You  don't 
deserve  to  be  a  mother!" 

She  laughed  good-humoredly. 

"You're  right,  Willie;  that's  one  for  you!  I  don't  deserve 
to  be,  and  I  didn't  want  to  be.  Oh,  what  a  bear  you  look! 
Be  off  to  the  City,  for  goodness'  sake;  don't  stop  scowling 
there!  Would _)'6'«  like  to  take  baby  out  for  once?  I'll  fetch 
him  for  you — he'll  be  such  a  nice  quiet  companion  for  you 
down-town !" 

I  beat  a  hasty  retreat;  I  had  no  words  wherewith  to  answer 
her,  but  I  released  my  pent-up  wrath  by  banging  the  street 
door  as  I  went  out  with  a  violence  that  I  freely  admit  was 
femininely  pettish  and  unworthy  of  man.  And  I  went  down 
to  my  office  in  a  very  angry  mood,  and  my  anger  was  not  les- 
sened when,  turning  sharp  round  a  corner,  I  ran  up  against 
the  "  boy"  with  the  mustaches. 

"  So  glad  to  meet  you,"  he  said,  with  his  gentlemanly  drawl 
and  elegant  air.  "  Hope  you're  coming  to  the  moors  this  year 
with  Mrs.  Tribkin?" 

I  stared  at  him — he  looked  provokingly  cool  and  comforta- 
ble in  his  white  flannels  (always  white  flannels!  However, 
it  was  a  fact  that  August  had  just  begun) — and  then  I  replied, 
with  some  frigidity : 

"  I  am  not  aware  that  Mrs.  Tribkin  is  going  to  the  moors  at 
all.  I  believe — indeed  I  am  sure — our — er — ?ny  intention  is  to 
spend  a  quiet  holiday  at  the  sea-side  for  the  benefit  of  the 
child's  health." 

"  Oh,"  murmured  the  "  boy,"  languidly.  ".Then  I  suppose 
I  have  made  a  mistake.  Some  one  told  me  she  had  taken  a 
share  in  the  grouse-shootings  this  season — gone  halves  with 
Mrs.  Stirling,  of  Glen  Ruach,  dontcherknow.  Quite  a  big 
party  expected  down  there  on  the  Twelfth." 

"  Really,"  I  snarled,  for  I  was  getting  angrier  every  minute. 
"  AxQ you  going?' 

He  looked  fatuously  surprised. 


MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE!  2^ 

"Mel    Oh,  dear,  no!     I'm  on  the  river." 

"  You're  always  on  the  river  now,  I  suppose,  aren't  you?"  I 
inquired,  with  a  sarcastic  grin. 

"Always,"  he  replied,  placidly.  "Won't  you  and  Mrs. 
Tribkin  come  and  see  me  in  my  little  house-boat?  Awfully 
snug,  dontcherknow — moored  in  capital  position.  Delighted 
to  see  you  any  time !" 

"  Thanks,  thanks !"  and  here  I  strove  to  snigger  at  him 
politely  in  the  usual  "  society"  way.  "  But  we  are  very  much 
tied  at  home  just  now — my  son  is  rather  too  young  to  appre- 
ciate the  pleasures  of  river-life !" 

"  Oh,  of  course !"  And  for  once  the  "  boy"  appeared  really 
startled.  "  It  would  never  do  for  a — for  a  little  kid,  you 
know.     How  is  he?"    This  with  an  air  of  hypocritical  anxiety. 

"  He  is  very  well  and  flourishing,"  I  answered,  proudly. 
"  As  fine  a  child  as " 

"Yes — er— no  doubt,"  interrupted  Mustaches,  hurriedly. 
"And  Honoria — Mrs.  Tribkin — is  awfully  devoted,  I  sup- 
pose?" 

"  Awfully !"  I  said,  fixing  my  eyes  full  and  sternly  upon  his 
inanely  handsome  countenance.  "  She  is  absorbed  in  him — 
absorbed,  heart  and  soul !" 

"  Curious — I  mean  delightful !"  stammered  the  hateful  young 
humbug.  "  Well — er — give  my  kind  regards,  please,  and  just 
mention  that  I'm  on  the  river!" 

As  well  mention  that  Queen  Anne  was  dead,  I  thought, 
scornfully,  as  I  watched  him  dash  over  a  crossing  under  the 
very  nose  of  a  plunging  cab-horse  and  disappear  on  the  oppo- 
site side.  He  was  a  fish,  I  declared  to  myself — a  fish,  not  a 
man !  Scrape  his  gills  and  cook  him  for  dinner,  I  muttered, 
deliriously,  as  I  went  along — scrape  his  gills  and  cook  him  for 
dinner!  This  idiotic  phrase  became  fixed  in  my  mind,  and 
repeated  itself  over  and  over  again  in  my  ears  with  the  most 
tiresome  monotony,  whereby  it  will  be  easily  comprehended 
that  my  nerves  were  very  much  unstrung  and  my  system 
upset  generally  by  the  feverish  mental  worry  and  domestic 
vexation  I  was  undergoing. 

On  reaching  home  that  afternoon  I  found  Honoria  in  high 
glee.  She  was  lounging  in  one  of  those  long,  comfortable 
deck  chairs,  which,  when  properly  cushioned,  are  the  most 
luxurious  seats  in  the  world,  smoking  a  cigarette  and  reading 
"  Truth." 


28  MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE! 

"  I  say !"  she  exclaimed,  turning  round  as  I  entered.  "  Here's 
a  lark!     Georgie's  going  to  marry  the  Earl  of  Richmoor!" 

I  confess  I  was  rather  surprised, 

"What,  Georgie!"  I  echoed,  incredulously. 

"  Yes,  Georgie  !  "  repeated  my  wife,  with  emphasis.  "  Little 
sly,  coaxy-woaxy  Georgie,  who  can't  say  booh!  to  a  goose. 
Going  to  be  a  real  live  countess — think  of  it !  Good  gracious, 
what  a  fool  Richmoor  is — he  might  have  had  me  !  " 

"  Might  he,  indeed,  Honoria?"  I  inquired,  coldly,  drawing 
off  my  gloves,  and  thinking  for  the  thousandth  time  what  a 
thorough  man  she  looked.  "  Did  he  know  that  such  a  chance 
of  supreme  happiness  was  to  be  had  for  the  asking?" 

"  Of  course  he  didn't."  Here  she  tossed  away  "  Truth,"  and 
catching  up  a  horrible  fat  pug  she  adored,  she  kissed  its 
nasty  wet  nose  with  effusion.  "  And  he  never  tried 
to  find  out.  He's  an  awful  swell,  you  know — the  kind  of 
fellow  that  coolly  'cuts'  the  fresh-dollars  American,  and 
won't  have  anything  to  do  with  trade.  Writes  books  and 
sculpts." 

"  Is  that  a  new  word,  sculpts  ?  "  I  asked,  satirically. 

"  Don't  know,  I'm  sure.  It  means  that  he  carves  out  busts 
and  things  in  marble — not  for  money,  you  know,  just  for  his 
own  amusement.  Oh,  he's  a  queer  card!  But  fancy  his  pro- 
posing to  Georgie,  of  all  people  in  the  world — such  a  little 
scrub  of  a  woman !" 

I  reflected  on  this  description.  My  wife's  youngest  sister 
was  little,  certainly,  but  she  could  scarcely,  in  justice,  be 
called  a  "  scrub."  She  had  beautiful  eyes — not  so  beautiful  in 
color  as  in  their  dreamy  expression  of  tenderness;  she  had  a 
sweet,  soft,  kissable  face,  a  charming  fairy-like  figure,  and  a 
very  gentle,  yet  fascinating,  manner.  There  was  nothing 
decidedly  "  striking"  about  her,  and  yet  she  was  about  to  make 
a  more  brilliant  match  than  could  have  been  possibly  hoped 
for  an  entirely  portionless  girl  in  her  position.  Honoria  went 
on  meditatively : 

"  Yes,  he  might  have  had  me,  and  just  think  of  the  differ- 
ence !  Look  at  me,  and  look  at  Georgie !  One  would  scarcely 
take  us  for  sisters." 

"  Scarcely,  indeed !"  I  assented,  with  a  muffled  sigh.  "  Your 
ways  are  rather  opposed  to  hers,  Honoria.  For  instance,  she 
does  not  smoke!" 

"  No,  poor  little  thing !"  and  Honoria  threw  away  the  end 


MY  WONDERFUL   WIFE!  2g 

of  her  cigarette   and    immediately   lighted    another.     "  She 
thinks  it  horrid." 

"  So  do  I,"  I  said,  with  marked  emphasis — "  Honoria,  so  do 
/think  it  horrid." 

She  glanced  at  me,  smiling. 

"  I  know  you  do,"  she  cheerfully  admitted;  "  you've  said  so 
often  enough."  She  smoked  a  little  in  silence,  and  then 
resumed:  "Now  look  here,  Willie,  listen  to  me!  I've  been 
thinking  over  things  lately,  and  I've  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  we  must  talk  it  out!     That's  the  term — talk  it  out!" 

"  Talk  w/iat  out,  Honoria?"  I  stammered,  nervously. 

"  The  marriage  question,"  she  replied.  "  There's  no  doubt 
whatever  that  it  has  been,  and  that  it  is,  a  ghastly  mistake !" 

"  Our  marriage  a  mistake,  dear?"  I  began,  anxiously. 
"  Surely  you " 

But  she  checked  me  with  a  slight  gesture  of  her  hand.  "  I 
don't  wish  to  say  that  I  think  ours  a  greater  mistake  than 
anybody  else's,"  she  went  on.  "Not  a  bit  of  it.  I  think  a// 
marriages  are  mistakes — the  institution  itself  is  a  mistake." 

I  gazed  at  her  blankly.  My  mind  recoiled  upon  itself  and 
wandered  drearily  back,  through  long  vistas  of  back  numbers 
of  the  "  Daily  Telegraph"  (that  glorious  and  ever-to-be-praised 
journal  is  everybody's  discussion-ground),  and  there  beheld, 
set  forth  in  large  capitals,  "Is  Marriage  a  Failure?"  attended 
by  masses  of  correspondence  from  strong-minded  ladies  and 
woful-spirited  men.  Was  Honoria  of  the  former  class,  as  I 
most  assuredly  was  of  the  latter? 

"  The  institution  of  marriage  is  itself  a  mistake,"  repeated 
Honoria,  firmly.  "  It  ties  a  man  to  a  woman,  and  a  woman 
to  a  man,  for  the  rest  of  their  mortal  lives,  regardless  of 
future  consequences.  And  it  doesn't  work.  The  poor  wretches 
get  tired  of  always  trotting  along  cheek  by  jowl  in  the  same 
old  road,  and  there's  no  way  of  breaking  loose  unless  one  or 
the  other  elects  to  become  a  scamp.  There's  not  change 
enough.  Now,  take  us  two,  for  example.  You  want  a  change, 
and  /want  a  change — that's  plain!" 

The  time  had  come  for  me  to  speak  my  mind  out  manfully, 
and  I  did  so. 

"  I  do  want  a  change,  Honoria,"  1  said,  gently,  and  with  all 
the  earnestness  I  felt,  "  but  not  the  sort  of  change  you  hint  at. 
I  want  a  change,  not  away  from  you,  my  dear,  but  m  you. 
I  want  to  sec  the  wo/fian/y  side  of  your  nature — the  gentleness, 


30  MY   WONDERFUL  WIFE! 

softness,  and  sweetness  that  are  all  in  your  heart,  I  am  sure,  if 
you  would  only  let  these  lovely  qualities  have  their  way,  in- 
stead of  covering  them  up  under  the  cloak  of  an  assumed 
masculine  behavior,  which,  as  I  have  often  said  to  you  before, 
is  highly  unbecoming  to  you,  and  distresses  me  greatly.  I 
suffer,  Honoria,  I  really  suffer,  when  I  see  and  hear  you,  my 
wife,  aping  the  manners,  customs,  and  slang  parlance  of  men. 
It  is  surely  no  disgrace  to  a  woman  to  be  womanly;  her 
weakness  is  stronger  than  all  strength ;  her  mildness  checks 
anger  and  engenders  peace.  In  her  right  position,  she  is  the 
saving-grace  of  men;  her  virtues  make  them  ashamed  of  their 
vices,  her  simplicity  disarms  their  cunning,  her  faith  and  truth 
inspire  them  with  the  highest,  noblest  good.  Honoria,  dear 
Honoria !  I  know  there  are  many  women  nowadays  who  act 
as  you  do,  and  think  no  shame  or  harm  of  it — who  hunt  and 
fish  and  shoot  and  smoke  and  play  billiards,  and  who  are  the 
declared  comrades  of  men  in  all  their  rough  sports  and  pas- 
times— but,  believe  me,  no  good  can  come  of  this  throwing 
down  of  the  barriers  between  the  sexes;  no  advantage  can 
possibly  accrue  to  a  great  nation  like  ours  from  allowing  the 
women  to  deliberately  sacrifice  their  delicacy  and  reserve, 
and  the  men  to  resign  their  ancient  code  of  chivalry  and 
reverence !  No,  Honoria,  it  is  not  in  keeping  with  the  law  of 
nature,  and  whatever  is  opposed  to  the  law  of  nature  must  in 
time  be  proved  wrong.  It  will  be  a  bad,  a  woful  day  for 
England  when  women  as  a  class  assert  themselves  altogether 
as  the  equals  of  men — for  men,  even  at  their  best,  have  vile 
animal  passions,  low  desires,  and  vulgar  vices  that  most  of 
them  would  be  bitterly  sorry  to  see  reflected  in  the  women 
whom  they  instinctively  wish  to  respect.  Believe  me,  dear,  I 
speak  from  my  heart !  Give  me  a  little  of  that  self-abnegation 
which  so  gloriously  distinguishes  your  sex  in  times  of  sickness 
and  trouble!  Be  a  true  woman,  Honoria;  leave  off  smoking 
and  betting,  and  let  me  find  in  you  the  sweet  wife  I  need  to 
encourage  and  cheer  me  on  my  way  through  the  world !  You 
are  precious  to  me,  Honoria;  I  want  to  see  you  at  your  best — 
I  want—" 

Here  my  voice  failed  me.  I  was  sincerely  moved;  a  foolish 
lump  rose  in  my  throat,  and  I  could  not  go  on.  Honoria,  too, 
was  serious.  She  had  listened  with  admirable  patience,  and 
now,  taking  her  cigarette  from  her  lips,  she  flicked  the  ash  off 
and  looked  at  it  reflectively. 


'  MY    WONDERFUL   WIFE!  3I 

"  It's  a  bad  job,"  she  said  at  last,  with  a  short  sigh — "  a  reg- 
ular bad  job!     I'm — I'm  awfully  sorry  for  you,  old  boy!" 

And  she  held  out  her  hand  to  me  with  a  sort  of  manly  candor 
that  was  simply  indescribable.  I  clasped  that  hand,  I  kissed 
it,  whereupon  she  hastily  withdrew  it. 

"Don't  do  that,"  she  laughed.  "It  gives  me  the  creeps! 
Fact,  really!  can't  bear  it!  Now  listen,  Willie!  The  case  is 
as  clear  as  daylight.     You've  married  the  wrong  sister!" 

"  Married  the  wrong  sister?"  I  echoed,  bewilderedly. 

"  Of  course  you  have,  you  dear  old  dunderhead !  You 
should  have  taken  Georgie  while  you  had  the  chance  of  a 
choice.  She  would  have  sat  on  your  knee,  cuddled  in  your 
arms,  curled  your  hair  with  her  fingers,  and  kissed  you  on  the 
tip  of  your  nose !  That's  Georgie  all  over!  Turtledove  and 
'Mary's  lamb'  in  one.  That's  what  you  wanted,  and  that's 
what  you  haven't  got,  poor  dear!  I'm  not  a  dove,  and  I'm 
certainly  not  a  lamb.  I'm — I'm  a  fair  specimen" — she  smiled 
candidly — "  a  fair  specimen  of  the  woman  of  the  future,  and 
you,  old  boy,  you  want  a  woman  of  the  past.  Now  haven't  I 
hit  it  off  exactly?" 

I  leaned  back  in  my  chair  with  a  half  groan,  and  she  con- 
tinued : 

"  You  see,  Willie,  you  want  me  to  change  my  nature  and 
become  a  big  transformation  scene  like  they  have  in  those 
pantomimes,  when  the  old  witch  of  the  piece  turns  into  a 
fairy  perched  on  the  edge  of  a  rainbow.  Those  things  are  all 
very  well  on  the  stage,  but  they  can't  be  done  in  real  life. 
You  know  I  was  at  school  at  Brighton?" 

I  assented,  wondering  what  was  coming  next. 
•  "  Well,  there,  among  other  accomplishments,  we  learned 
how  to  ride,  and  our  riding-master  (a  dashing  sort  of  fellow, 
full  of  fun)  taught  us  how  to  smoke,  lessons  gratis.  Fact! 
We  all  learned  it — on  the  sly,  of  course,  just  as  he  flirted  with 
us  all  on  the  sly;  but  we  became  proficients  in  both  arts.  We 
were  fifty  girls  at  that  place,  and  we  all  smoked  whenever 
we  had  the  chance,  and  got  to  like  it.  We  ate  loads  of  scented 
bonbons  afterward  to  kill  the  smell,  and  we  were  never  found 
out.  Brighton  schools  are  not  celebrated  for  strictness,  yoti 
know;  the  young  men  do  pretty  much  as  they  like  in  every 
way,  and  get  into  no  end  of  scrapes  often.  But  that's  wide 
of  the  mark.  The  point  is,  that  I  learned  to  smoke  at  school, 
and  when  I  came  home  I  met  lots  of  women  who  smoked  also, 


32  MY   WONDERFUL  WIFE! 

and  naturally  I  went  on  with  it  till  the  habit  became  second 
nature.  Why,  you  might  as  well  ask  a  washer-woman  to  give 
tip  her  tea  as  ask  me  to  give  up  my  cigar!" 

"  Is  it  so  bad  as  that?"  I  stammered,  weakly. 

"  Yes,  it  /V  'so  bad  as  that '  or  so  good !"  she  laughed,  amiably. 
"You  used  not  to  have  such  violent  prejudices,  Willie! 
You've  smoked  enough  yourself,  I'm  sure!" 

"But,  Honoria,  /am  different — "  I  began. 

"Pardon  me,"  she  interposed,  sm.ilingly ;  "  that  is  just  what 
I  can  not  see !  I  do  not  understand  why  there  should  be  any 
difference  between  the  customs  of  men  and  the  customs  of 
women." 

"  Good  God !"  I  exclaimed,  sitting  bolt  upright  and  speaking 
with  some  excitement.  "  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  women  are 
capable  of  doing  everything  that  men  do?  Can  you  contem- 
plate a  battle  being  fought  by  women?  Could  they  undertake 
a  naval  engagement?  Are  women  fit  to  lay  down  railways, 
build  bridges,  and  construct  canals?  Will  they  break  stones 
on  the  road  and  drive  hansom  cabs  and  omnibuses?  Will  they 
become  stokers  and  porters?  Will  they  dig  wells  and  put  up 
telegraph  wires?  I  tell  you,  Honoria,  this  craze,  this  mania 
for  striving  to  make  women  the  equals  of  men,  is  as  wicked 
as  it  is  unnatural,  and  can  engender  nothing  but  misery  to 
the  nation  as  well  as  to  the  individual !" 

"  In  what  rank,  then,  would  you  propose  to  place  woman," 
demanded  Honoria,  calmly,  "  if  she  is  not  (as  /  hold  she  is)  the 
equal  of  man?     Is  she  his  inferior  or  superior?" 

"She  is  his  inferior  in  physical  strength,"  I  answered, 
warmly;  "  his  inferior  in  brute  force  and  plodding  power  of 
endurance ;  his  inferior  too  in  consecutive  far  planning  and 
carrying  out  of  plans ;  her  brain  is  too  quick,  too  subtle,  too 
fine,  to  hold  much  of  the  useful  quality  of  that  dogged  and 
determined  patience  which  distinguishes  so  many  of  the  great 
inventors  and  explorers.  But,  Honoria,  she  is  (if  she  is  true 
to  herself)  infinitely  his  superior  in  delicate  tact,  sweet  sym- 
pathy, grand  unselfishness,  and  divinely  awful  purity.  I  say 
divinely  awful,  because  if  she  be  indeed  'chaste  as  ice  and 
pure  as  snow,'  though  she  may  not  escape  the  calumny  of  the 
wicked,  she  commands  and  retains  the  passionate  reverence 
of  men  who  know  the  worst  side  of  the  world  well  enough  to 
appreciate  such  angelic  and  queenly  qualities.  Compared 
with  man,  woman  is  therefore  his  inferior  and  superior,  both 


MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE!  33 

in  one — a  complex  and  beautiful  problem,  a  delicious  riddle 
which  the  best  men  never  wish  to  have  completely  guessed; 
they  prefer  to  leave  something  behind  the  veil — something 
mysterious  and  forever  sanctified,  and  shut  out  from  the  vul- 
gar gaze  of  the  curious  crowd !" 

Thus  far  I  had  proceeded  in  eloquence  when  Honoria  inter- 
rupted me. 

"  That  sounds  all  very  nice  and  pretty,"  she  said,  "  but 
to  speak  bluntly,  it  won't  wash  !  Don't  talk  of  your  sex,  my 
dear  boy,  as  though  they  were  all  romantic  knights-errant 
of  the  olden  time,  because  they're  not!  They're  nasty  fel- 
lows, most  of  them,  and  if  women  are  nasty  too,  why  then 
they  help  to  make  them  so!  Look  at  them!  Talk  of  smoke, 
why,  they're  always  smoking — dirty  pipes,  too,  full  of  beastly 
tobacco — cheap  tobacco;  and  as  for  their  admiration  of  all 
those  womanly  qualities  you  describe,  they  don't  care  a  bit 
for  them!  They'll  rtm  after  a  ballet-dancer  mnch  more  read- 
ily than  they'll  say  a  civil  word  to  a  lady,  and  they'll  crowd 
round  a  woman  whose  name  has  been  bandied  about  in  a 
horrid  divorce  case,  and  neglect  the  good  girl  who  has  never 
made  herself  notorious." 

"  Not  always,"  I  interposed,  quickly.  "  You've  got  an  ex- 
ample in  your  own  sister,  and  she  is  to  marry  the  Earl  of 
Richmoor." 

"  True  enough,"  and  my  wife  rose  from  her  chair,  shook  her 
skirts,  and  flung  away  the  last  fragment  of  her  cigarette. 
"  But  he's  an  exception — a  very  rare  exception — to  the  rule. 
And  all  the  same,  Willie,  /  can't  change  myself  any  more 
than  the  leopard  can  change  his  spots,  as  the  Bible  says.  I'm 
a  result  of  the  age  we  live  in,  and  you  don't  quite  like 
me!" 

"  I  do  like  you,  Honoria — "  I  began,  earnestly. 

"  No,  you  don't — not  quite !"  she  insisted,  her  eyes  twink- 
ling satirically.  "  And  I  promise  you  I'll  think  over  the  posi- 
tion very  carefully  and  see  what  I  can  do.  Meanwhile,  you 
needn't  have  the  boys  anymore  if  they're  disagreeable  to  you." 

"  They're  not  disagreeable,"  I  faltered;  "  but—" 

"  Yes,  I  understand — want  the  house  to  yourself.  All  right ! 
I'll  give  them  the  straight  tip.  lean  see  them  elsewhere,  you 
know;  they're  not  bound  to  come  here  often." 

"  Elsewhere?"  I  questioned,  in  some  bewilderment, 
"  Where,  Honoria,  if  not  here?" 


34  MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE! 

"  Oh,  all  sorts  of  places,"  she  answered,  laughingly.  "  On 
the  river,  at  the  Grosvenor,  Hurlingham — heaps  of  old  haunts 
we  used  to  go  to." 

"  But  suppose  I  object,  Honoria,"  I  said,  with  warmth. 
"  Suppose  I  do  not  approve  of  your  meeting  the  'boys'  at  these 
different  haunts,  what  then?" 

"  Oh,  you  won't  be  such  an  old  goose,"  she  replied,  cheer- 
fully. "  You  know  there's  no  harm,  no  real  mean  lowness 
about  me,  don't  you?" 

Her  clear  eyes  met  mine  straightly  and  truthfully  as  star- 
beams. 

"  Yes,  I  know,  Honoria,"  I  said,  gently  but  seriously;  "  I  am 
perfectly  aware  of  your  goodness  and  honor,  my  dear — but 
there  is  such  a  thing  as  gossip ;  and  that  you  should  go  about 
at  all  with  these  young  men  seems  to  me  like  a  rash  laying  of 
yourself  open  to  society  backbiting  and  scandal." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  she  averred.  "  Lots  of  women  do  it — in 
fact,  Fve  not  yet  come  across  a  married  woman  who  wants  to 
set  up  for  a  prude  in  these  days!  And  I  couldn't  drop  the  boys 
altogether,  you  know — poor  chaps,  they'd  feel  it  awfully! 
Now  don't  be  so  down  in  the  mouth,  Willie.  Cheer  up!  As 
I  told  you,  I'm  going  to  think  over  the  position  and  see  what 
I  can  do  for  you." 

Just  at  that  moment  a  wild  screech  from  the  nursery  an- 
nounced more  sufferings  on  the  part  of  Master  Hatwell- 
Tribkin. 

"Doesn't  he  just  yell!^'  remarked  Honoria,  serenely. 
"  Lungs  of  seasoned  leather  he  must  have !     Ta-ta!" 

And  with  a  light  wave  of  her  hand  she  left  me  to  my  own 
reflections,  which  were  very  far  indeed  from  being  consola- 
tory. What  a  strange  difficulty  I  was  in !  There  was  not  a 
tinge  of  wickedness,  not  the  least  savor  of  deceit,  about 
Honoria.  She  was  as  honest  and  true  as  steel,  and  yet — yet 
I  was  never  more  dismally  conscious  of  anything  in  my  life 
than  that  the  time  was  approaching  when  I  might  find  it  no 
longer  possible  to  endure  her  company! 


MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE!  35 

CHAPTER  V. 

I   LEARN    SOME  OPINIONS   REGARDING   MY   WIFE. 

■The  next  day,  having  business  in  that  particular  neighbor- 
hood, I  lunched  at  the  Criterion.  I  had  scarcely  sat  down  to 
my  modest  chop  and  potatoes  when  two  gentlemen  entered 
and  took  the  table  just  behind  me,  and  glancing  round  in  a 
casual  sort  of  way,  I  recognized  in  one  of  them  the  Earl  of 
Richmoor.  He  was  a  good-looking  fellow,  with  rather  a 
thoughtful  yet  kindly  face,  and  a  very  "  winning"  smile.  I 
had  only  met  him  on  one  occasion  at  a  large  "  At  Home" 
given  by  Honoria's  mother,  and  it  was  not  likely  he  would 
have  any  very  distinct  recollection  of  me ;  so  I  kept  my  back 
carefully  turned,  not  wishing  to  obtrude  myself  upon  his 
notice.  Presently,  however,  something  he  was  saying  to  his 
friend  attracted  my  attention.  With  my  knife  and  fork  sus- 
pended in  air  I  listened  anxiously. 

"  It's  a  thousand  pities,"  he  remarked.  "  She's  a  handsome 
creature,  wonderfully  clever  and  spirited.  I  was  half  inclined 
to  fall  in  love  with  her  myself,  at  one  time,  but,  by  Jove !  I 
wanted  a  nwrnan,  you  know,  not  a  semi-man  in  petticoats." 

"  She  won't  wear  petticoats  long,  I  should  say,"  returned  the 
other  man,  with  a  laugh.  "  If  report  knows  anything  about 
her,  she'll  be  in  trousers  before  she's  many  years  older." 

"  Heaven  forbid !"  exclaimed  Richmoor,  and  I  heard  him 
pouring  out  wine  into  his  glass.  "  If  she  does  I  shall  have  to 
cut  her,  though  she  is  Georgie's  sister!" 

Down  clattered  my  knife  and  fork,  and  I  drank  a  large  gulp 
of  water  to  cool  my  feverish  agitation.  It  was  my  wife  they 
were  talking  of !  and  my  ears  tingled  with  shame  and  anger. 
My  wife !    My  Honoria ! 

"  She's  a  good  woman,  you  know,"  added  Richmoor,  pres- 
ently. "  Never  plays  a  double  game — couldn't  be  false  if  she 
tried.  In  fact,  her  only  fault  is  that  horrible  masculinity  of 
hers;  she  thinks  it's 'the  thing,'  unfortunately;  she  fancies 
men  admire  it.  Poor  soul!  if  she  only  knew!  Of  course 
there  are  some  young  asses  who  like  to  see  women  smoking 
and  who  encourage  them  to  do  it,  and  a  few  despicable  snobs 
who  urge  them  to  shoot  and  go  deer-stalking ;  but  these  sort 


36  MY  WONDERFUL  WIFE! 

of  gaby  fellows  are  in  the  minority  after  all.  It's  a  most  piti- 
able thing  to  eee  otherwise  nice  women  willfully  going  out  of 
their  natural  sphere." 

"It  is — exceedingly  so,"  agreed  his  friend,  energetically. 
"  I  can't  think  why  they  do  it;  they  only  get  laughed  at  in  the 
long  run.  That  woman  Stirling,  of  Glen  Ruach,  helped  t  o 
spoil  Honoria  Maggs;  she's  a  regular  cad.  Have  you  ever 
met  her?" 

"  No." 

"  Oh,  she  dresses  as  nearly  like  a  man  as  is  compatible  with 
the  present  convejiancesj  cuts  her  hair  quite  short,  wears  shirt- 
fronts  and  men's  ties,  shoots,  bags  her  game,  goes  after 
salmon  (she  landed  two  the  other  day  weighing  twelve  pounds 
each),  rides  a  tricycle,  has  a  perfect  mania  for  fox-hunting 
(always  in  at  the  death),  and  smokes — ye  gods,  how  she  does 
smoke !  She's  got  a  regular  Turkish  pipe  in  her  boudoir,  and 
is  always  at  it." 

"  Disgusting!"  said  Richmoor.     "  Where's  her  husband?" 

"  Where?"  and  the  other  laughed.  "  Not  with  her,  you  may 
depend  upon  it!  Couldn't  stand //^r  for  long!  He's  in  India, 
beating  up  tigers  in  the  jungle,  I  believe ;  most  probably  he 
thinks  it  better  to  be  torn  to  pieces  by  tigers  than  live  with 
such  a  wife." 

"  Talking  of  husbands,  I  wonder  how  poor  Hatwell-Tribkin 
gets  on,"  said  Richmoor,  meditatively.  "  He  must  have  an 
awful  time  of  it,  I  expect !" 

I  could  stand  this  no  longer.  Rising  abruptly  from  my  seat, 
I  seized  my  hat  and  umbrella  and  grasped  them  convulsively 
in  one  hand;  then,  approaching  the  next  table,  I  forced  a 
politely  awful  smile  and  laid  my  visiting-card  solemnly  down 
beside  Richmoor's  plate  without  a  word! 

He  started  violently  and  his  face  flushed  deeply,  the  color 
spreading  to  the  very  roots  of  his  hair. 

"  Tribkin !"  he  exclaimed.  "  My  dear  fellow,  I — I — I  really — 
Upon  my  word,  I — I — "  He  broke  off  confused,  and  exchanged 
uneasy  glances  with  his  friend,  I  watched  his  discomfort 
keenly,  in  that  special  way  that  the  snake,  according  to  novel- 
ists, watches  the  fascinated  sparrow. 

"  I  overheard  your  remarks,  my  lord,"  I  said,  in  a  sort  of 
stage  whisper,  accentuated  by  much  stuttering  severity.  "  I 
overheard — unintentionally  and  with  pain — your  remarks  con- 
cerning my — my  wife!    I  need  scarcely  say  that  they  were 


MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE!  37 

not  agreeable  to  me.     I  consider — I  most  emphatically  con- 
sider, sir,  that  you  owe  me  an  apology." 

"  My  dear  Tribkin,"  and  the  young  man  eagerly  extended 
his  hand,  "  pray  let  me  make  it  at  once !  I  apologize  most 
sincerely,  most  penitently.  I  am  awfully  sorry,  really!  My 
friend  here,  Mr.  Herbert  Vaughan,  is  as  sorry  as  I  am,  Tm 
sure;  aren't  you,  Vaughan?"  The  gentleman  appealed  to, 
who  had  been  diligently  sorting  crumbs  on  the  table-cloth, 
looked  up  with  a  burning  blush,  bowed  low,  and  acquiesced. 
"  It's  very  foolish  to  get  talking  about — about  people,  you 
know ;  one  can  never  be  certain  that  they  are  not  close  at 
hand.     I  ^'/>£?  you  forgive  me !     I  really  didn't  mean — " 

Here  I  cut  him  short;  he  was  evidently  so  sincerely  grieved 
and  vexed  that  my  anger  cooled  down  completely,  and  I 
pressed  his  proffered  hand. 

"  That's  enough,"  I  said,  dismally,  but  gently  too.  "  I  know 
people  will  talk,  and  I  suppose  Mrs.  Tribkin  " — here  I  bright- 
ened up  a  bit — "  is  handsome  enough  and  clever  enough  to  be 
talked  about!" 

"  Exactly,"  and  the  young  earl  looked  immensely  relieved 
at  this  way  of  putting  it.  "  That's  what  Georgie  always  says. 
You  know  I'm  going  to  marry  Georgie?" 

"  I  know,"  I  replied,  "  and  I  congratulate  you!" 

"  Thanks !  Now  do  have  a  glass  of  wine,  won't  you?  Here, 
waiter,  bring  another  bottle  of  Beaune." 

I  was  halt  disposed  to  decline  this  invitation,  but  he  pressed 
me  so  cordially  that  I  could  not  very  well  refuse. 

I  therefore  sat  down,  and  we  all,  including  the  young  gen- 
tleman named  Vaughan,  conversed  for  some  time  on  the  sub- 
ject of  Woman  generally — woman  judged  from  two  points  of 
view,  namely,  the  high  and  dignified  position  which  Nature 
evidently  intended  her  to  occupy,  and  the  exceedingly  cheap 
and  low  level  at  which  she,  in  these  modern  days,  seems  in- 
clined to  place  herself.  It  may  and  it  will  no  doubt  surprise 
many  fair  readers  of  these  unpretending  pages  to  learn  that, 
taken  the  majority  of  opinion  held  by  the  best  and  bravest 
men  of  England  (and  by  the  best  and  bravest  I  mean  those  who 
have  their  country's  good  at  heart,  who  revere  their  queen, 
and  who  have  not  yet  trampled  chivalry  in  the  dust  and  made 
a  jest  of  honor),  it  will  be  found  that  they  are  unanimous  in 
wishing  to  keep  sweet  woman  in  her  proper  sphere ;  a  sphere, 
I  may  add,  which  is  by  no  means  narrow,  but,  on  the  con- 


38  MY   WONDERFUL  WIFE! 

trary,  wide  enough  to  admit  all  things  gracious,  becoming, 
and  beautiful ;  inspiring  things  both  in  art  and  loftiest  litera- 
ture ;  things  that  tend  to  refine,  but  not  to  degrade  and  vul- 
garize. Men  have  no  sort  of  objection  to  make  when  women, 
gifted  with  a  rare  and  subtle  power  of  intellect,  take  to  the 
study  of  high  philosophy  and  glorious  science.  If,  like  Mary 
Somerville,  they  can  turn  their  bright  eyes  undismayed  on 
the  giddy  wonders  of  the  firmament  and  expound  in  musical 
phrase  the  glittering  riddles  of  astronomy,  we  hear  them  with 
as  much  reverence  and  honor  as  though  they  were  wise  angels 
speaking.  It,  like  Elizabeth  Barrett,  they  pour  from  a  full, 
sweet  heart  such  poetry  as  is  found  in  the  "  Sonnets  from  the 
Portuguese,"  we  listen  entranced  and  moved  to  the  lovely 

music  that 

"Gentlier  on  the  spirit  lies, 
Than  tired  eyelids  upon  tired  eyes." 

Who  does  not  admire  and  revere  the  woman  who  wrote  the 
following  exquisite  lines  which,  with  all  their  passion,  are 
still  true  womanly : 

"  How  do  I  love  thee  ?    Let  me  count  the  ways : 
I  love  thee  to  the  depth  and  breadth  and  height 
My  soul  can  reach,  when  feeling  out  of  sight 
For  the  ends  of  Being  and  Ideal  Grace  ; 
I  love  thee  to  the  level  of  every  day's 
Most  quiet  need,  by  sun  and  candle-light; 
I  love  thee  freely,  as  men  strive  for  Right, 
I  love  thee  purely,  as  they  turn  from  Praise ; 
I  love  thee  with  the  passion  put  to  use 
In  my  old  griefs,  and  with  my  childhood's  faith; 
I  love  thee  with  a  love  I  seemed  to  lose 
With  my  lost  saints — I  love  thee  with  the  breath, 
Smiles,  tears  of  all  my  life  ! — and,  if  God  choose, 
I  shall  but  love  thee  better  after  death  !" 

In  fine,  we — I  speak  for  the  men — we  do  not  want  to  shut 
out  woman  from  what  she  can  becomingly  do  without  de- 
stroying the  indefinable  soft  attraction  of  her  womanhood. 
But  when  she  wishes  to  vulgarize  herself,  when  instead  of  a 
queen  she  elects  to  be  a  street  scavenger  or  the  driver  of  a 
dust-cart,  we  object.  We  object  for  her  sake  quite  as  much 
as  for  our  own ;  because  we  know  wliat  the  direful  result  of 
such  a  state  of  topsy-turvydom  must  infallibly  be.  When 
woman  voluntarily  resigns  her  position  as  the  silent  monitor 


MY  WONDERFUL   WIFE!  39 

and  model  of  grace  and  purity,  down  will  go  all  the  pillars 
of  society,  and  we  shall  scarcely  differ  in  our  manners  and 
customs  from  the  nations  we  call  "  barbaric,"  because  as  yet 
they  have  not  adopted  Christ's  exalted  idea  of  the  value  and 
sanctity  of  female  influence  on  the  higher  development  of  the 
human  race. 

But  I  am  getting  serious — too  serious  to  be  borne  with  by 
the  impatient  readers  of  to-day.  All  the  same,  we  must  be 
serious  sometimes ;  we  can  not  always  be  grinning  about  like 
apes  among  cocoanut-trees.  There's  too  much  grinning  now- 
adays— false  grinning,  I  mean.  We  grin  at  our  friends,  grin 
straight  through  the  length  and  breadth  of  an  "  At  Home," 
grin  in  church  and  out  of  church,  grin  at  scandals,  grin  at 
suicides,  grin  at  everything,  everywhere.  We  might  as  well 
be  death's-heads  at  once  and  have  done  with  it.  We  shall  be 
some  day;  but  I  fancy  we  are  rather  anticipating  the 
pleasure ! 

When  I  got  home  that  evening  I  did  not  fail  to  report  to  my 
wife  the  faithful  account  of  my  meeting  with  the  Earl  of 
Richmoor  and  his  friend  Mr.  Vaughan,  and  what  they  had 
said,  and  what  /  had  said  about  her  and  about  her  sex  gener- 
ally. She  heard  me  with  that  admirable  equanimity  which 
always  distinguished  her,  but  it  made  no  effect  upon  her. 

"  Richmoor's  a  prig,"  she  said,  curtly.  "  He  always  was, 
you  know.  One  of  those  dreadfully  stuck-up,  blue-blood, 
long-lineage  fellows.  Bobbie  is  nothing  to  him."  ("  Bobbie" 
was  the  "  boy"  with  the  mustaches ;  scrape  his  gills  and  cook 
him  for  dinner,  I  mused  dreamily.)  "  And  so  you  said  I  was 
handsome  and  clever  enough  to  be  talked  about,  did  you?" 

"I  did." 

"  Well,  now,  old  boy,  that  was  awfully  nice  of  you,"  and  she 
gave  me  a  bright  smile.  "  Husbands  are  not  always  so  com- 
plimentary behind  their  wives'  backs.  You  deserve  a  reward, 
and  I'm  going  to  give  it  to  you!  You  shall  get  rid  of  me  for 
a  whole  six  weeks ;  there !" 

"  Get  rid  of  you,  Honoria?"  I  faltered,  amazed.  "  What  do 
you—" 

"  Look  here,"  she  went  on,  rapidly.  "  I've  arranged  it  all. 
Mother  will  take  baby — she's  quite  agreeable — and  you  can 
shut  up  the  house  and  go  where  you  like  and  do  what  you 
like  and  have  a  real  jolly  good  time.  /  shan't  ask  what 
you've  been  up  to!     This  is  the  fourth  of  August;  well,  say 


40  MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE! 

we  meet  again  here  about  the  twentieth  of  September,  of 
later,  if  you  like;  that'll  give  us  a  good  long  swing  apart." 

"  But,  Honoria,"  I  exclaimed,  in  utter  bewilderment,  "  what 
do  you  mean?  Where  are  you  going?  What  do  you  propose 
to  do?" 

"Shoot,"  she  replied,  promptly.  "I'm  booked  to  Trottie 
Stirling  for  the  Twelfth,  and  mean  to  bag  more  game  than 
any  of  the  male  duffers  she's  asked  down  to  Glen  Ruach  this 
season.  She's  invited  jvi?« /  Poor  dear!  it  would  never  suit 
you  to  see  me  blazing  away  over  the  heather  and  tramping 
across  the  moors  in  leggings;  but  it's  awful  fun  though!" 

"  No,  you  are  right !  It  would  not  suit  me !"  I  vociferated, 
giving  way  to  the  wrath  I  could  no  longer  restrain.  "  It  would 
not,  and  it  will  not  suit  me !  Honoria,  I  am  master  in  my  own 
house ;  you  are  my  wife,  and  I  expect  you  to  obey  me.  I 
have  never  exacted  my  right  of  obedience  from  you  till  now, 
Honoria,  but  now,  now  I  do  exact  it !  You  will  not  go  to  this 
horrible  woman  at  Glen  Ruach"  (wretch !  she  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  herself),  "  you  will  not,  Honoria!  You  will  remain 
with  me  and  the  child,  as  it  is  your  duty  to  do.  I  will  not 
permit  you  to  indulge  in  these  unlady-like  sports  any  longer; 
you  will  become  the  laughing-stock  of  the  town  and  make  me 
a  laughing-stock  too!  And  no  wonder;  no  man  with  any 
spirit  would  allow  you  to  make  such  a  fool  of  yourself — yes, 
a.  fool,  Honoria,  whether  you  like  the  expression  or  not;  you 
w?^i'/ look  a  fool  with  a  gun  in  your  hand,  'blazing  away,'  as 
you  call  it;  in  leggings  too — good  God!" 

And  I  laughed  bitterly,  and  flung  myself  into  a  chair,  trem- 
bling with  excitement.  She  surveyed  me  quite  coolly,  show- 
ing no  sign  of  temper. 

"  Thanks !"  she  said.  "  Thanks  awfully !  You  are  polite, 
upon  my  word!  You  don't  want  a  sixpenny  hand-book  on 
etiquette,  evidently!  But  you're  old-fashioned,  Willie — 
frightfully  old-fashioned!  Behind  the  time  altogether — miles 
and  miles  behind !  You  don't  suppose  I'm  going  to  disappoint 
all  my  'set'  down  at  Glen  Ruach  just  to  gratify  your  middle- 
ages  prejudices,  do  you?  Not  a  bit  of  it!  I  advise  you  to 
run  across  Channel  for  awhile — take  the  waters  at  Homburg  or 
something — you'll  feel  twenty  per  cent,  better  afterward. 
I've  arranged  to  leave  here  on  the  tenth,  so  you  can  make 
your  plans  accordingly." 
She  was  imperturbable,  and  I  flared  round  upon  her  once  more. 


MY   WONDERFUL  WIFE!  41 

"Honoria,  I  shall  speak  to  your  mother!" 

"  What  for?"  she  calmly  inquired. 

"  I  shall  tell  her  of  your  unwomanly — your  unwifely — your 
impossible  conduct !" 

"  Good  gracious!  That  will  be  funny!  Poor  old  mammy! 
She  knows  all  about  me,  and  so  did>w<  know  all  about  me 
before  you  married  me — what  in  the  world  are  you  grumbling 
at?" 

"  I  did  not  know,"  I  gasped,  wrenching  my  handkerchief 
round  and  round  in  my  hand  as  a  sort  of  physical  relief  to  my 
feelings,  "  I  did  not  know  you  went  to — to  such  lengths, 
Honoria !" 

"  As  the  leggings?"  she  demanded.  "  Well,  they  are  long, 
there's  no  doubt  about  that!" 

And  with  a  ringing  burst  of  laughter  she  left  me — left  me 
to  consume  myself  in  as  silent  and  impotent  a  fury  as  ever 
racked  the  long-enduring  spirit  of  married  man ! 


CHAPTER  VI. 

I   INTERVIEW    MY    MOTHER-IN-LAW. 

I  KEPT  my  word.  I  did  speak  to  Honoria's  mother,  and  a 
very  dreary  conversation  we  had  of  it.  Mrs.  Maggs  was  a 
thin,  sheep-faced,  flabby  old  lady,  who  impressed  people  at 
first  sight  as  being  "  so  sweet !"  on  account  of  the  feebly  smil- 
ing chronic  amiability  of  her  expression ;  but  those  who  came 
to  know  her  well,  as  I  did,  grew  rapidly  sick  of  her  smile,  and 
passionately  yearned  to  shake  her  into  some  semblance  of 
actual  vivacity.  She  was  the  most  helpless,  tame  old  woman 
I  ever  met,  with  watery  blue  eyes,  and  tremulous  hands  that 
were  forever  busy  smoothing  down  the  folds  of  her  black  silk 
dress,  or  settling  the  lace  she  always  wore  about  her  shoulders, 
or  playing  with  the  loosely  flying  strings  of  her  cap.  Those 
hands  used  to  worry  me — they  were  never  still.  When  she 
made  tea  (which  she  did  frequently  and  always  badly)  they 
'hovered  above  the  tray  like  bleached  birds'  claws,  shaking 
over  the  sugar  and  wobbling  about  with  the  cream-jug  till  any 
enjoyment  of  the  "  cup  that  cheers"  became  impossible  to  me. 
I  spoke  to  her,  however,  because  I  had  threatened  Honoria  I 
wotdd  do  so  (and  it  is  very  foolish  to  threaten  and  not  perform 


42  MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE! 

-^even  children  find  that  out  and  despise  you  for  it).  I  called 
on  her  for  the  express  purpose  of  speaking  to  her,  as  I  ex- 
plained in  a  note  marked  "  Confidential"  which  I  sent  round  to 
her  house  (three  squares  off  from  us)  by  my  man-servant. 
Time  was  going  on,  and  Honoria  was  going  on  too,  or  rather 
she  was  going  off.  Her  portmanteau  was  packed  and  labeled 
for  Scotland;  her  gun-case  and  sporting  equipments  stood 
prepared  in  the  hall ;  she  herself  had  been  absent  from  home 
for  three  or  four  days,  staying  with  a  Mrs.  Netcalf  on  the  river 
— a  place  quite  close  to  the  spot  where  "  Bobbie"  with  the 
mustaches  had  got  his  "  little  house-boat"  moored.  She  had 
written  to  me  briefly,  explaining  that  they  were  all  having  a 
"high  old  time,"  and  asking  me  (for  mere  form's  sake,  of 
course)  whether  I  would  not  leave  my  "  prejudices"  behind 
and  join  them?  To  this  letter,  which  I  thought  impertinent, 
considering  the  seething  state  of  our  domestic  affairs,  I  vouch- 
safed no  reply ;  my  mind  was  too  full  of  my  own  increasing 
grievances.  The  baby — my  helpless  son — had  already  been 
packed  off  to  his  grandmother's,  nurses  and  all.  He  was  sent 
away  during  one  of  my  daily  absences  in  the  City,  and  a  nice 
row  we  had  about  him,  poor  innocent,  when  his  screams  no 
longer  cheered  the  silence  of  our  dwelling.  I  learned  then 
that  Honoria,  after  all,  had  a  temper ;  not  precisely  the  sort  of 
temper  we  generally  credit  woman  with,  which  may  be  de- 
scribed as  a  swift  summer  hurricane — eyes  flashing  lightning 
and  pouring  tears  at  once,  followed  by  brilliant  sunshine. 
No!  Honoria's  temper  merely  developed  itself  into  a  remark- 
able facility  for  saying  very  nasty  and  sarcastic  things — things 
that  riled  a  fellow  horribly  and  rubbed  him  up  entirely  the 
wrong  way.  Witty,  cold-blooded,  "  smart"  remarks  she  threw 
at  me ;  epigrammatic  sentences  that  were  about  as  clever  as 
they  could  well  be — and  I  hiew  they  were  clever,  and  was  all 
the  more  hurt  by  them.  Because,  as  far  as  her  intelligence 
went,  she  was  (I  must  really  repeat  it)  a  wonderful  woman — 
simply  wonderful !  She  leaped  across  the  country,  metaphori- 
cally speaking,  and  seized  a  galloping  idea  by  the  mane,  as 
though  it  wfere  a  horse,  while  others  were  peeping  doubtfully 
at  it  under  cover  and  round  the  corner— that  was  her  way  of 
mastering  information.  Men  can't  do  that  sort  of  thing;  they 
have  to  coax  knowledge  into  their  slow  brains  by  degrees; 
clever  women  absorb  it  like  sponges,  without  any  apparent 
trouble.     So  that  we  had  once  or  twice  what  I  should  freely 


MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE!  43 

describe  as  a  devil  of  a  row.  /got  red  in  the  face,  and  she 
never  changed  color — /swore,  and  she  dropped  me  a  mocking 
courtesy — /  held  on  to  a  chair  to  save  myself  from  getting 
lifted  bodily  off  the  ground  by  the  honest  wrath  of  my  indig- 
nation, and  she  lounged  on  a  sofa,  smoked,  and  grinned  at  me. 
Yes !  I  say  grinned !  I  would  no  longer  call  that  white,  glisten- 
ing tooth-display  of  hers  a  smile;  it  had  a  cold  and  snarly  look 
that  I  could  not  conscientiously  admire.  And  yet  I  was  fond 
of  her  too,  and  I  knew  she  was  a  good  woman — none  better, 
so  far  as  honesty  and  straight  principles  were  concerned. 

And  thus  it  was  that,  torn  by  conflicting  emotions,  fagged 
and  worn  out  by  the  constant  fret  of  my  own  domestic 
wretchedness,  I  determined  to  appeal  to  Mrs.  Maggs,  though 
I  instinctively  felt,  before  I  made  the  attempt,  that  it  was  an 
act  of  mere  desperation,  and  that  it  would  result  in  no  sort  of 
advantage  or  help  to  me  in  the  unfortunate  position  I  occupied. 

The  old  lady  was  in  a  more  than  usually  nervous  state  when 
I  arrived,  and  came  fluttering  to  meet  me  at  the  drawing- 
room  door  with  that  anxious,  propitiatory  smile  I  abhorred, 
more  pronounceu  than  ever. 

"  I\Iy  dear  "William !"  she  murmured,  her  hands  waving  about 
me  like  the  hands  of  a  very  stagey  mesmerist.  "  It  is  so  nice 
of  you  to  come  and  see  me,  so  vcryuice  and  kind  of  you!" 
Here  she  caught  her  breath  and  sighed.  She  was  fond  of 
doing  that — her  pet  idea  was  that  she  had  heart  disease. 
"Dear  baby  is  doing  so  well,  and  is  quite  happy  upstairs! 
Georgie  goes  and  sits  on  the  floor  and  lets  him  play  with  her 
back  hair,  and  he  does  tear  it  so" — her  pale  eyes  watered 
visibly  at  this — "  I  tell  her  she'll  have  none  left  on  her  scalp 
to  be  married  with.  Dear  girl!  You've  heard  about  Rich- 
moor?  Yes,  such  a  brilliant  match,  and  he's  such  a  nice  man; 
not  very  communicative,  but  very  gentlemanly.  And  he  plays 
with  baby  too;  isn't  it  pretty  of  him?  He  goes  upstairs  with 
Georgie  constantly,  and  I  hear  them  laughing  together,  dear 
things!  It  is  so  nice  of  him,  you  know,  being  a  man,  to  like 
stopping  up  in  the  nursery,  which  must  be  dull — no  news- 
papers or  anything — and  he  can't  smoke,  or  he  won't,  on  ac- 
count of  Georgie's  being  there ;  he's  very  particular  about  that 
sort  of  thing;  besides,  smoke  would.be  bad  for  baby's  eyes." 
Here  she  stopped  for  breath  again,  pressing  her  hand  on  her 
side,  while  I  gazed  at  her  and  forced  a  politely  soothing  smile. 
(I  was  obliged  to  smile,  because  she  thought  everybody  who 


44  MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE! 

didn't  smile  at  her  was  cross  or  ill,  and  I  did  not  wish  to  pose 
as  either  one  or  the  other.)  "  Yes,  baby  is  quite  a  boon,"  she 
went  on,  in  plaintively  cheerful  tones.  "  A  positive  boon ! 
keeps  everybody  employed,  and  is  such  a  darling!  I'm  so  glad 
you'll  let  us  take  care  of  him  while  Honoria  is  away!" 

"It  is  just  about  Honoria  that  I  came  to  speak  to  you,"  I 
said,  clearing  my  throat  and  edging  past  those  ghostly  fingers 
of  hers  that  seemed  to  give  me  Honoria's  favorite  malady, 
"  the  creeps."  "  I  am  sorry  to  say  we've  had  a  little  differ- 
ence— " 

"  Oh,  dear !"  faltered  Mrs.  Maggs,  gliding  nervously  to  the 
tea-tray,  which  stood  ready  as  usual,  and  beginning  to  make 
a  feeble  noise  with  the  cups  and  saucers.  "  Oh,  dear  me, 
William!  don't  say  so!  One  can  not  have  all  sunshine,  you 
know,  dear  William,  in  one's  married  life.  I'm  sure  when 
Mr.  Maggs  was  alive — ah !  it  seems  only  the  other  day  he  died, 
poor  darling!" — (Lord  bless  the  woman,  he  had  been  molder- 
ing  in  his  grave  for  eighteen  years!) — "  we  used  often  to  have 
a  little  quarrel  about  things,  especially  about  blue  ties!  I 
never  could  bear  blue  neck-ties,  and  he  always  would  v^^ear  one 
on  Sundays.  It  was  really  very  tiresome,  because  we  used  to 
find  the  Sundays  so  disagreeable,  you  know — so — so  unchris- 
tian! Of  course  it  was  my  fault  as  much  as  it  was  his;  both 
were  to  blame,  and  that  is  the  way  always  with  married  peo- 
ple, dear  William ;  both  are  to  blame,  it  is  never  all  on  one 
side — it  cant  be — you  must  bear  and  forbear — " 

Here  she  let  fall  the  sugar-tongs  with  a  clatter,  and  trailed 
off  into  unintelligible  nothings. 

"  Yes,  I  know — 1  know  all  about  that,"  I  said,  making  a  des- 
perate effort  to  be  patient  with  this  trembling,  pale  jelly  of  a 
woman,  who  always  seemed  on  the  point  of  dissolving  into 
tears.  "  But  the  present  matter  is  very  serious,  and  it  is  be- 
coming more  and  more  serious  every  day.  You  see,  when  a 
man  marries  he  wants  a  home — " 

"  Oh,  my  dear  William,  I'm  sure  you've  got  a  home,"  moaned 
Mrs.  Maggs,  turning  her  weak  eyes  reproachfully  upon  me. 
"You  can't  say  you  haven't — you  really  ca?it,  William!  A 
beautiful  home !  Why,  the  carpets  alone  in  it  cost  a  small 
fortune,  and  as  for  the  drawing-room  curtains,  they're  good 
enough  to  make  court-trains  of — they  are  positively  are,  Wil- 
liam! Every  bit  pure  silk,  and  all  the  flower-pattern  raised! 
I  can't  imagine  what  you  can  want  better!    And  I  remember 


MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE!  45 

when  that  overmantel  was  bought  at  Salviati's,  all  Venetian 
glass!  I  couldn't  sleep  a  wink  for  nights  and  nights,  thinking 
of  it,  and  I  went  myself  to  see  the  men  put  it  up,  for  I  was  so 
afraid  they  would  break  it,  and  it  was  so  expensive !  Why, 
you've  got  lovely  things  everywhere,  William,  and  how  can 
you  say  you  want  a  home?" 

By  this  time  I  was  beginning  to  lose  my  equanimity. 

"Dear  me,  madame,"  I  snapped  out,  testily,  "you  surely 
don't  suppose  it's  th.Q  furniture  that  makes  a  home,  do  you? 
The  drawing-room  curtains  won't  cure  me  of  misery;  the 
Venetian  mirror  won't  help  me  out  of  a  difficulty  !"  My  voice 
rose  agitatedly.  "  I  can't  exist  on  the  tables  and  chairs,  can 
I?  I  can't  make  a  friend  and  confidant  of  the  carpet!  I  re- 
peat, that  when  a  man  marries,  he  wants  a  home ;  and  when  I 
married  your  daughter  Honoria,  /  wanted  a  home,  and  I 
haven't  got  it." 

"You  haven't  got  it,  William?"  stammered  Mrs.  Maggs, 
approaching  me,  with  a  cup  of  that  weak,  over-sweetened  tea 
she  always  made  in  her  shaking  hand.  "  You  haven't  got  it, 
dear?     Why,  how  is  it  that  Honoria — " 

I  motioned  the  tea  away  with  a  tragic  gesture,  and  my  pent- 
up  passion  burst  forth. 

"Honoria  is  not  a  woman!"  I  exclaimed,  wildly — "not  a 
whole  woman  by  any  means !  She  is  half  a  man !  She  is  a 
mistake ;  she  is  a  freak  of  nature" — here  I  broke  into  a  deliri- 
ous laugh.  "  She  should  be  exhibited  as  an  eccentricity  in 
some  museum !" 

This  time  I  had  achieved  a  feat  not  common  to  man — I  had 

scared  my  mother- in-law !     The  poor  feeble   thing  tottered 

I  back  to  the  tea-tray  and  set  down  the  cup  I  had  just  rejected; 

then  nervously  drawing  her  lace  scarf  round  her  shoulders,  she 

quavered : 

"  Don't,  William,  don't.  Oh !  dofi'thQ  so— so  dreadful !  You 
frighten  me!  You  don't  know  what  you  say,  William,  you 
really  don't.  You've  been  taking  something  in  the  City, 
haven't  you?  There  now,  don't  be  offended,  William!  Will 
you  have  some  soda-water?" 

I  have  said  there  were  times  when  those  who  knew  Mrs. 
Maggs  well  yearned  to  shake  her.  One  of  those  times  had 
come  now.  It  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  I  refrained 
from  pouncing  on  her  frail  form  and  rendering  her  suddenly 
breathless.     But  I  controlled  myself ;  I  made  a  desperate  effort 


46  MY    WONDERFUL   WIFE! 

to  be  calm,  and  succeeded  in  merely  surveying  her  with  a 
proper  manly  scorn. 

"  You  are  very  like  your  daughter  in  some  respects,"  I  said. 
"  When  you  see  a  fellow  as  wretched  as  he  can  be,  suffering 
mental  tortures  more  acutely  than  he  can  describe,  you  think 
him  drunk!     Very  sympathetic,  I'm  sure!" 

She  smoothed  her  gray  hair  tremulously  and  produced  her 
chronic  smile. 

"  I'm  sorry  you  are  suffering,  William,  very  sorry;  but  you 
needn't  be  so  rough,  dear!  Tell  me  what's  the  matter.  Has 
Honoria  been  flirting  with  Bobbie?" 

"No,"  I  answered,  proudly.  "That  is  one  thing  I  can  not 
accuse  her  of ;  she  does  not  flirt.  She  has — I  will  say  that  for 
her — too  great  a  sense  of  honor.  She  is  guiltless  of  all  femi- 
nine coquetries  and  petty  vanities.  She  puts  on  no  airs,  and 
though  she's  handsome,  she's  not  a  bit  conceited.  She's  good 
and  honest — but — but  she  should  never  have  married;  she's 
not  fit  for  it !" 

"Not  fit  for  it,"  whimpered  Mrs.  Maggs.  "  Oh,  William ! 
how  cruel  you  are!     Not  fit  for  it!     How  can  you  say  so?" 

"  I  can  say  so  because  1'vq  proved  so,"  I  replied,  bluntly.  "  I 
repeat — she's  not  fit  for  it.  She  should  have  lived  in  the 
world  apart,  alone,  and  worn  her  no-sex  as  best  she  could. 
She  would  have  no  doubt  worn  it  admirably!  As  a  wife  she's 
out  of  her  element;  as  a  mother  she's  still  further  out  of  her 
element.  A  smoking,  betting,  crack  shot  is  scarcely  the  per- 
son to  undertake  the  commonplace  care  of  an  infant ;  a  notable 
female  deer-stalker  is  not  precisely  suited  to  the  degradation" 
(and  I  emphasized  the  word  bitterly)  "  of  marriage.  In  fact, 
it  is  because  I  feel  the  position  of  affairs  as  so  extremely  seri- 
ous— serious  even  to  the  degree  of  possible  mutual  separation 
— that  I  have  come  to  you,  Mrs.  Maggs,  to  ask  you  to  speak  to 
Honoria  quietly,  to  reason  with  her,  and  point  out  how  little 
her  behavior  conduces  to  my  happiness,  and  also  how  much 
she  exposes  herself  to  the  ridicule  and  slanderous  judgment 
of  those  who  do  not  understand  her  as  well  as  you  and  I  do. 
A  mother's  arguments  may  win  the  day  where  those  of  a  hus- 
band fail." 

I  had  spoken  with  so  much  gravity  that  my  mother-in-law's 
eyes  now  watered  in  real  earnest,  and  she  pulled  out  a  filmy 
bit  of  lace  handkerchief  and  wiped  away  the  tears  effusively. 

"  It's  no  use,  William,"  she  sniveled,  weakly ;  "  no  use  what- 


MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE"!  47 

ever  7ny  speaking  to  Honoria!  She  wouldn't  listen  to  me  for 
a  minute;  she  never  would  when  she  was  a  child,  and  now  she 
is  married  she'd  only  tell  me  I  had  no  business  to  interfere. 
I  used  to  say  I  thought  it  was  very  wrong  for  her  to  smoke 
and  go  shooting  with  that  Mrs.  Stirling — really  a  very  vulgar 
woman — but  she  only  laughed  at  me.  She's  got  a  great  way 
of  laughing  at  everything,  has  Honoria.  But  she's  very 
clever,  William;  you  hiow  she  is!  Professor  Muddlecums, 
who  was  here  the  other  evening,  said  that  she  was  simply  the 
most  wonderful  woman  he  ever  met!  Such  a  grasp  of  things, 
and  such  a  memory!  You  mustn't  mind,  William,  you  really 
mustn't  mind  her  smoking,  and  all  that,  I  don't  believe  she 
could  do  without  it;  you  know  some  of  the  papers  say  it's 
very  soothing  to  the  nerves.     YiovCtyou  like  smoking,  dear?" 

"I  used  to  like  it,"  I  answered,  gloomily.  "I  don't  now; 
Honoria  has  sickened  me  of  it !" 

"  Dear,  dear,  that  is  a  pity,"  and  Mrs.  Maggs'  hovering  hands 
went  to  work  again  in  the  usual  style.  "  But  perhaps  you'll 
take  to  it  again  after  a  bit.  Any  way,  dont  ask  me  to  speak 
to  Honoria,  William !  I  couldn't,  you  know !  My  heart  is  very 
weak,  and  I  should  be  almost  dead  with  nervousness.  You 
must  arrange  your  little  matrimonial  differences" — chronic 
smile  once  more — "  between  you ;  it  never  does  any  good  to 
interfere.  What!  are  you  going?"  For  I  had  risen  dispiritedly 
and  was  now  making  my  weary  way  toward  the  door.  "  Won't 
you  see  baby  before  you  go?  He  is  such  a  dear  darling,  do 
see  him !" 

I  hesitated,  but  there  was  a  certain  parental  tugging  at  my 
heart-strings.  After  all,  he  was  my  child,  and  I  wanted  him 
to  know  me  a  little. 

"Yes,  I'll  see  him,"  I  said,  briefly. 

Whereupon  Mrs.  Maggs  became  mildly  fluttered  and  pleased, 
and,  opening  the  drawing-room  door,  she  called  up  the  stairs: 

"  Georgie !  Georgie !" 

"  Yes,"  answered  a  clear,  girlish  voice. 

"Bring  baby  down;  William's  here,  and  wants  to  see 
him." 

Another  couple  of  minutes,  and  Georgie  entered,  carrying 
my  young  hopeful  in  her  arms,  clean  and  fresh  as  a  rose,  not 
screaming,  not  angry,  as  was  his  wont,  but  with  a  fat  smile 
puckering  up  his  small  features  into  countless  little  wrinkles, 
and  a  fearless  confidence  shining  in  his  round,  big,  honest 


48  MY   WONDERFUL  WIFE! 

blue  eyes.  The  child  was  evidently  perfectly  happy,  and  I 
knew  at  once  what  had  made  him  so. 

"  Thank  you,  Georgie,"  1  said,  simply,  as  I  shook  hands  with 
her. 

"  For  what?"  she  asked,  laughing. 

"  For  taking  such  care  of  him." 

"  Nonsense !"  And  she  set  her  burden  down  on  the  hearth- 
rug, where  he  immediately  pulled  off  his  woolen  shoe  and 
began  eating  it.  "  He  wants  scarcely  any  care,  he's  so  good. 
Do  you  know  I  don't  think  we  need  more  than  one  nurse ; 
would  you  mind  if  we  sent  away  the  other?" 

"  Not  at  all,"  I  replied.     "  Do  as  you  like." 

She  seated  herself  in  a  chair  and  looked  at  her  mother, 
smiling. 

"  Give  me  some  tea,  mammy  dear,"  she  said.  "  Haven't  you 
had  any,  William?" 

"No." 

"  Have  some  now,  and  keep  me  company,"  and  springing 
up,  she  peered  doubtfully  into  the  fresh  cup  Mrs.  Maggs 
poured  out,  then  shook  her  head  in  playful  remonstrance. 

"  Too  weak,  mammy ;  William  likes  it  rather  strong.  May 
I  put  some  more  tea  in  the  pot?" 

"  I'm  sure,  Georgie,"  began  her  mother,  plaintively,  "there's 
plenty  in,  only  it  doesn't  seem  to  draw  properly.  I  don't 
know  how  it  is,  the  tea  isn't  half  so  good  now  it  gets  adver- 
tised on  the  walls  so  much ;  in  77iy  young  days  it  was  a  luxury !" 

"  Yes,  mother,"  laughed  Georgie,  who  during  this  feeble 
chatter  had  been  quietly  manipulating  the  tea-pot,  and  now 
handed  me  a  delicious  cup,  aromatic  in  odor  and  tempting  to 
look  at,  "  and  now  it's  a  positive  necessity !  All  the  worse, 
say  the  wise  men,  for  us  and  our  poor  nerves.  Oh,  baby !" 
This  as  Master  Tribkin  uttered  a  sound  something  between  a 
chuckle  and  a  coo,  expressive  of  the  ecstasy  at  having  found 
on  the  carpet  a  large  tin  tack  which  he  was  laboriously  striv- 
ing to  put  in  his  eye.  "  Oh,  what  an  ugly  thing  for  baby  to 
play  with!  Auntie  doesn't  like  it.  See!"  and  she  made  the 
most  comical  little  face  of  disgust  and  threw  the  objectionable 
nail  out  of  the  window;  whereupon  my  infant  became  imi- 
tatively  disgusted  also,  and  in  turn  made  eloquent  signs  of 
deep  repulsion  for  the  vanished  thing  he  had  lately  deemed  a 
treasure ;  signs  which  were  so  excessively  flabby  and  funny 
that  Georgie  laugched,  and  I,  catching  the  infection  from  her, 


MY   WONDERFUL  WIFE!  49 

laughed  also,  heartily,  and  a  trifle  nervously  too,  for  there 
was  something  very  queer  about  my  feelings  just  then.  I  tell 
you,  let  the  "  practical"  period  say  what  it  will,  a  man  has  a 
heart ;  he  is  not  a  mere  machine  of  wood  and  iron ;  and  I  was 
conscious  of  a  soft  and  sudden  sense  of  rest  in  Georgie's  pres- 
ence— little  Georgie,  whom  once  I  had  scarcely  noticed,  the 
"  scrub  of  a  woman"  looking  just  now  the  very  picture  of  sweet 
maidenhood  and  modesty  in  her  pretty  white  cotton  gown, 
with  a  "  fetching"  little  bunch  of  pansies  and  mignonette 
carelessly  slipped  into  her  waistband.  I  drank  my  tea  in 
slow  sips  and  surveyed  her,  while  Mrs.  Maggs  sunk  lan- 
guidly down  in  an  arm-chair  and  heaved  her  heart-disease 
sigh. 

"  William  is  vexed,"  she  began,  glancing  at  me  with  a  gently 
distrustful  melancholy.  "  Georgie,  William  is  vexed  about 
Honoria." 

"  Yes?"  and  Georgie  looked  up  quickly.  "  You  do  not  want 
her  to  go  to  Mrs.  Stirling's,  I  suppose?" 

"  No,  I  do  not"  I  said,  emphatically.  "  Georgie,  I'm  sure 
you  can  understand — " 

Georgie  nodded.  "  Yes,  I  understand,"  she  replied,  in- 
stantly. "But  I'm  afraid  it's  no  use  arguing  about  it,  Wil- 
liam. She  will  go ;  nothing  will  dissuade  her.  I've  spoken 
to  her  about  it." 

"  You  have?  That  was  kind  of  you,"  I  said.  Then,  after  a 
pause  I  added,  "  You  always  were  a  kind  little  soul,  Georgie. 
Richmoor's  a  lucky  man !" 

She  smiled,  and  a  warm  blush  swept  over  her  cheeks. 

"  r m  lucky,  too,"  she  answered  softly.  "  You  can't  imagine, 
William,  what  a  nice  fellow  he  is !" 

"  I'm  sure  of  that — "  I  hesitated,  then  went  on  desperately : 
"  So  you  think  it's  best  to  let  Honoria  have  her  own  way  then 
this  time,  Georgie?" 

"  I'm  afraid  so,"  and  she  looked  at  me  very  sympathetically. 
"You  see,  when  she's  away  she  may  take  a  better  view  of 
things — she  may  even  get  tired  of  all  those  vulgar  sporting 
men  and  women,  and  begin  to  long  for  her  home,  and — and 
for  you,  and  the  baby — and  that  would  be  such  a  good  thing, 
you  know !" 

"Yes,  it  would,"  I  answered,  despondently,  "  if  it  ever  hap- 
pened ;  but  it  wo?it  happen  !" 

"  Wait  and  see,"  said  Georgie,  confidently.     "  Honoria's  got 


50  MY   WONDERFUL  WIFE! 

a  good  heart,  after  all ;  she  can  be  very  sweet  if  she  likes,  and 
if  you  don't  thwart  her  just  now  she  may  completely  alter  her 
ideas.  I  think  it's  quite  possible — it  would  be  natural — for 
she's  certain  to  give  up  sporting  and  hunting  J^w^  day;  it 
carit  last—" 

"  Can't  last?  Of  course  it  can't  last!"  declared  Mrs.  Maggs, 
unclosing  her  eyes,  which  had  been  shut  till  now  in  placid 
resignation.  "  No  woman  can  go  on  shooting  forever,  Wil- 
liam dear;  why,  she'll  get  old,  you  know,  and  she'll  want  to 
be  quiet!" 

"  And  I  must  wait  till  she  gets  old,  I  suppose ;  that's  what 
you  mean  to  imply?"  I  said,  with  a  haggard  attempt  at  smil- 
ing. "  All  right ;  but  age  will  not  cure  her  of  smoking,  I  fear ! 
However,  I  won't  bore  you  any  more  with  my  worries.  Good- 
bye, Georgie!" 

"  Good-bye!"  and  she  held  out  her  hand;  then,  as  I  took  it, 
she  whispered:  "  I'm  so  sorry  about  it  all,  William — so  sorry, 
I  mean,  for  you." 

"  I  know  you  are,"  I  answered,  in  the  same  low  tone,  and  I 
pressed  her  kindly  clinging  little  fingers.  "Never  mind; 
every  one  has  got  troubles;  why  should  I  be  an  exception? 
Good-bye,  youngster!" 

This  to  my  small  son,  who  was  now  busy  dragging  all  the 
music  out  of  the  music-stand  in  a  cheerfully  absorbed  silence. 
"  I  suppose  he'd  scream  if  I  took  him  up?" 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Georgie ;  "  he's  not  a  bit  shy ;  tr)'  him !" 

Whereupon  I  lifted  him  gingerly  in  my  arms,  and  he  stared 
at  me  with  deliberate  and  inquisitorial  sternness.  Suddenly, 
however,  he  burst  into  a  wild  war-whoop  of  delight,  and 
patted  my  cheeks  violently  and  condescendingly;  and  when  I 
set  him  down  again  he  was  convulsed  with  laughter.  I  don't 
know  why,  I'm  sure.  I  can  not  pretend  to  enter  into  an  in- 
fant's sense  of  humor.  I  only  realized  that  he  was  a  very 
good-natured  baby,  and  that  his  good-nature  had  never  been 
apparent  under  the  maternal  roof.  Mrs.  Maggs  bade  me  fare- 
well very  effusively. 

"  Do  come  and  sit  with  us,  dear  William,  in  the  evening 
whenever  you  feel  lonely,"  she  entreated,  mournfully;  "and 
perhaps  you  can  arrange  to  come  down  to  Cromer  with  us 
also.  We  are  going  there  for  a  little  change  of  air;  it  will  do 
baby  so  much  good.  We  shall  be  quite  pleased  to  have  you, 
you  know.     Indeed,  it  is  to  be  expected  you  will  want  to  see 


MY  WONDERFUL  WIFE!  5  I 

your  own  baby  sometimes,  especially  when  you  can  not  see 
your  own  wife!     You  7i'/7/ come,  won't  you,  William?" 

I  said  I  would  think  of  it,  and  with  a  few  more  hurried 
words  I  departed.  No  good  had  come  of  my  visit  there,  I 
thought,  as  I  shut  the  street  door  behind  me ;  no  good  what- 
ever, except  the  sight  of  Georgic.  She  was  a  refreshing 
glimpse  of  womanhood,  at  any  rate,  and  I  dwelt  on  her  pretty 
image  in  my  mind  with  pleasure.  1  reached  my  own  house 
and  let  myself  in  as  usual  with  the  latch-key;  the  place  had  a 
vacant  and  deserted  air;  the  rooms  smellcd  of  stale  tobacco, 
and  a  sense  of  despondency,  loss,  and  failure  crept  over  me 
as  I  stood  for  a  moment  looking  in  at  the  semi-darkened 
library,  where  I  had  passed  so  many  solitary  evenings.  It 
was  no  good  stopping  at  home,  I  decided;  the  very  word 
"  home"  was  a  mockery  to  one  in  my  position.  I  therefore  did 
what  every  man  does  who  finds  his  wife  ?/«wifely  and  his 
domestic  surroundings  uncomfortable :  went  down  to  my  club 
to  dinner,  and  returned  no  more  till  I  returned  to  bed. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

MY   wife's   opinions. — A   STARTLING   PROPOSITION. 

August  was  past  and  gone,  September  was  drawing  near 
its  close ;  my  wife  had  won  fresh  distinction  as  a  sportswoman 
of  the  highest  rank  down  at  Glen  Ruach,  and  I  had  spent  a 
very  quiet  holiday  at  Cromer  with  Mrs.  Maggs  and  all  her 
family  (seven  boys  and  girls,  without  counting  Honoria),  pass- 
ing the  time  in  making  friends  with  my  own  infant  son.  And 
now  the  summer  vacation  was  over ;  people  were  returning  to 
town  in  straggling  batches,  and  I  returned  among  others.  My 
wife  had  written  to  me  now  and  then,  chiefly  on  post-cards, 
and  I  had  replied  by  the  same  cheap  and  convenient  method 
of  correspondence,  which  leaves  no  room  for  romance.  She 
was  not  romantic,  and  if  /had  a  vein  of  sentiment  anywhere 
in  my  composition,  I  was  determined  not  to  make  a  display 
of  it  to  her  again.  She  was  coming  home ;  she  had  announced 
her  intention  of  arriving  on  a  particular  evening  which  she 
named,  and  she  had  requested  me  not  to  bother  about  meeting 
her  at  the  station.  So  I  didn't  bother  about  it.  Georgie  had 
been  busy  at  our  house — Mrs.  Maggs  also ;  preparing  it  and 


52  MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE  ! 

putting  it  in  order  for  the  return  of  its  mistress,  and  all  was 
in  readiness — all  except  the  baby,  who  still  remained  with  his 
young  aunts  and  uncles  and  grandmother.  The  time  fixed 
upon  had  come,  and  I  sat  at  the  library  window  looking  out 
on  the  square  and  awaiting  my  wife's  arrival.  I  had  made 
up  my  mind  to  welcome  her  as  an  affectionate  husband  should; 
I  had  resolved  that  we  would  talk  about  our  differences  in  a 
quiet  and  perfectly  amicable  manner,  and  that  if  she  could  not 
or  would  not  resign  her  mannish  habits  out  of  love  or  respect 
for  me,  why,  then  I  would  in  all  gentleness  suggest  a  mutually- 
ag^reed-upon  separation.  I  hoped  it  would  not  come  to  this; 
but  I  was  positively  determined  I  would  stand  her  masculine 
behavior  no  longer.  It  had  sickened  me  to  the  soul  to  read 
the  various  accounts  of  her  that  appeared  from  time  to  time  in 
the  "  society"  papers.  I  had  longed  to  thrash  the  insolent  little 
paragraphists  who  wrote  of  her  as  the  "  Amazonian  Mrs.  Hat- 
well-Tribkin,"  "the  stalwart  Mrs.  Ha.t\xe\l-Tvihkm,"  ef  cefera, 
especially  when  they  finished  off  their  description  with  satiri- 
cal exclamations,  such  as  "Bravo,  Honoria!"  or  "  Well  done 
for  Mrs.  H.-T. !"  I  had  felt  every  drop  of  blood  in  my  body 
tingle  with  vexation  whenever  I  saw  her  name  bandied  about 
in  company  with  all  the  theatrical  and  "  fast"  notorieties  of  the 
day,  but  how  could  I  complain?  She  had  laid  herself  open  to 
it;  her  conduct  invited  it,  and  if  her  gowns  were  described 
and  her  good  looks  discussed  and  her  "  points"  criticised  as 
though  she  were  some  fine  mare  for  sale  at  Tattersall's,  it  was 
/ler  fault — it  was  certainly  not  mine.  I  was  tired  of  the  whole 
business,  and  I  had  firmly  and  finally  resolved  that  I  would 
not  consent  to  be  known  merely  as  the  matrimonial  appendage 
of  Mrs.  Hatwell-Tribkin.  I  would  have  a  distinct  personality 
of  my  own.  There  are  too  many  weak,  good-natured  hus- 
bands about  in  society,  who,  rather  than  have  continual  rows 
with  their  wives,  consent  to  be  overshadowed  and  put  to 
shame  by  their  feminine  arrogance  and  assumption  of  superi- 
ority. I  tell  these  wretched  beings  once  for  all  that  they  are 
making  a  woful  mistake.  Let  them  assert  themselves,  no 
matter  with  how  much  difficulty  and  unpleasantness,  and  it 
will  be  the  better  for  them  in  the  long  run.  The  world  will 
never  blame  any  fellow  for  steadily  refusing  to  live  with  a 
woman  who,  in  mind  and  character,  is  more  than  half  a  man. 
I  waited,  as  I  said,  at  the  library  window — waited  and 
watched  for  Honoria's  return,  glancing  from  time  to  time  at 


MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE!  53 

the  evening  papers  and  listening  intently  to  every  distant 
sound  of  cab-wheels.  At  last  I  saw  a  hansom  (one  of  those 
dangerously  silent  things,  with  tinkling  bells  which  scarcely 
suffice  to  warn  aside  the  unwary  foot  passenger)  whirl  round 
the  corner  of  the  square,  with  the  well-known  gun-case  and 
portmanteau  on  top ;  in  one  minute  it  had  stopped  at  the  door; 
in  another  Honoria  was  out  of  it  and  in  the  hall. 

"  How  do?"  she  exclaimed  loudly  as  I  went  forth  to  gfreet 
her.  (Naturally,  I  made  no  foolish  attempt  to  kiss  her.) 
"You  look  fairly  fit!  Here,  Simmons!" — this  to  the  man- 
servant— "  take  all  my  traps  out  and  send  them  upstairs — half 
a  crown  fare — here  you  are !" 

And  she  tossed  him  the  coin  and  marched  into  the  library 
with  a  firm,  rather  heavy  tread,  I  following  her  in  a  deeply 
hurt  and  vexed  silence,  for  I  noticed  at  the  first  glance  that 
she  had  cut  her  hair  quite  short.  All  those  beautiful  bright 
nut-brown  tresses  I  had  admired  when  I  courted  her  were 
gone,  and  I  had  some  ado  to  speak  with  any  sort  of  gentle- 
ness. 

"I  see  you  have  cut  your  hair,  Honoria,"  I  said,  looking  at 
her  as  she  stood  before  me,  tall  and  commanding  as  a  Grena- 
dier Guard,  clad  in  her  buttoned  tweed  ulster  and  deer-stalk- 
ing cap.     "  I  think  you  spoiled  yourself." 

"  Do  you?  I  don't!"  she  retorted,  taking  off  the  cap  and  dis- 
playing a  mass  of  boy's  short  curls  all  over  her  head.  "  It's 
ever  so  much  cooler,  and  ever  so  much  less  troublesome. 
Excuse  me,  don't  be  shocked!" 

And  unfastening  her  ulster,  she  threw  it  off.  Great  heavens ! 
what — what  extraordinary  sort  of  clothes  had  she  got  into ! 
I  mistrusted  my  own  eyesight;  were  those — those  nether  gar- 
ments knickerbockers  ?  positively  knickerbockers  ?  Yes !  by  every- 
thing amazing  and  unfeminine  they  were  !  and  over  them  came 
a  loose  blouse  and  short — very  short — frilled  petticoat,  some- 
thing like  the  "  Bloomer"  costume,  only  several  degrees  more 
"  mannish"  in  make.  I  stared  at  her  open-mouthed  and 
utterly  dismayed ;  so  much  so  that  I  was  speechless  for  the 
moment. 

"  My  shooting  costume,"  she  explained,  cheerfully.  "  It's 
such  a  comfort  to  travel  in,  and  no  one  sees  under  my  ulster !" 

"  Would  you  care  if  any  one  did  see,  Honoria?"  I  inquired, 
coldly. 

"No,  I  don't  suppose  I  should,"  she  answered,  gayly,  ruf- 


54  MY  WONDERFUL  WIFE! 

fling  tip  her  curls  with  one  hand.  "  Well,  Willie,  as  I  said 
before,  you  lookyf//  Had  a  good  time  at  Cromer?  and  are  you 
glad  to  see  me  back  again?" 

"  Of  course,  Honoria,"  I  replied,  in  the  same  quietly  un- 
moved tone ;  "  of  course  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  but —  Well,  we 
will  talk  over  things  presently.  Supper  is  ready,  I  believe; 
will  you  not  change  your — your — " 

And  I  pointed  to  the  knickerbockers  with,  I  think,  rather  a 
sarcastic  expression  on  my  countenance.  She  flushed  just  a 
little ;  it  must  have  been  my  glance  that  confused  her  for  an 
instant ;  then,  I  suppose,  a  devil  of  mischief  entered  into  her 
and  made  her  obstinate. 

"  No,  what's  the  good  of  changing;  such  a  bother!"  she  an- 
swered. "Besides,  I'm  as  hungry  as  a  hunter;  I'll  sit  down 
to  supper  as  I  am.     Awfully  comfortable,  you  know !" 

"  Honoria!"  I  said,  with  a  sort  of  desperate  politeness,  "  you 
must  really  pardon  me !  I  refuse — I  utterly  refuse  to  sit  at 
table  with  you  in  that  costume !  Do  you  want  the  very  ser- 
vants to  giggle  at  you  all  through  the  meal?" 

"  They  may  giggle  if  they  like,"  she  replied,  imperturbably ; 
"  their  giggles  won't  hurt  me,  I  assure  you!" 

"Honoria!"  and  I  spoke  with  deliberate  gentleness  and 
gravity,  "  will  you  oblige  me  by  changing  those  masculine 
habiliments  of  yours,  and  dressing  like  a  lady  ?  " 

She  looked  at  me,  laughed,  and  her  eyes  flashed. 

"No,  I  won't!"  she  said,  curtly. 

I  bowed ;  then  quietly  turned  round  and  left  the  room,  and 
not  only  the  room,  but  the  house.  I  went  to  my  club  and 
supped  there,  needless  to  say,  with  no  enjoyment  whatever, 
and  with  no  heart  to  enter  into  conversation  with  any  friends. 
I  think  most  of  them  must  have  seen  I  was  seriously  put  out, 
for  they  left  me  pretty  much  alone,  and  I  was  able  to  take 
counsel  with  myself  as  to  what  I  should  do  next.  I  returned 
home  late,  and  retired  to  a  separate  apartment,  so  that  I  saw 
no  more  of  Honoria  till  the  next  morning,  when  she  came 
down  to  breakfast  in  her  smoking-suit,  i.e.,  the  same  sort  of 
skirt  and  large-patterned  man's  jacket  she  had  surprised  me 
with  on  the  evening  of  our  marriage-day. 

I  studied  her  attentively.  Her  skin,  which  had  recently 
been  exposed  so  ruthlessly  to  the  sun  and  wind  on  the  grouse 
moo?s,  was  beginning  to  look  rough  and  coarse ;  her  eyes  had 
a  bold,  hard,  indifferent  expression;  her  very  hand,  as  she 


MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE!  55 

poured  out  the  tea,  was  red  and  veiny,  like  that  of  a  man  ac- 
customed to  rough  weather,  and  I  realized  with  immense 
regret  that  her  beauty  would  soon  be  a  thing  of  the  past ;  that 
it  was  even  possible  she  might  become  positively  ugly  in  an 
incredibly  short  time  if  she  continued  (as  it  was  pretty  evident 
she  would  continue)  her  masculine  mode  of  life.  It  was  she 
who  first  began  the  conversation  that  morning. 

"Got  over  your  temper,  Willie?  Do  you  know  you're  be- 
coming a  perfect  demon?" 

"Am  I?"  I  said,  patiently.  "I'm  sorry,  Honoria;  I  used  to 
be  considered  a  good-natured  fool  enough,  but  I've  had  a 
great  deal  to  vex  me  lately,  and  I  fancy  you  know  the  cause 
of  my  vexation." 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  indifferently,  helping  both  me  and 
herself  to  toast  as  she  spoke ;  "  I  know,  but  I've  settled  all 
that.  I  never  take  long  making  up  my  mind !  We  must  part 
— that's  about  the  long  and  the  short  of  the  matter.  We  can't 
work  together — it's  no  use,  oars  won't  pull  evenly — we  shall 
only  upset  the  boat.  It's  easily  done — have  an  agreement 
drawn  up  as  they  do  for  house  leases,  sign  it  before  witnesses, 
and  we  split — quite  amicably — no  fuss.  And  that  will  leave 
me  free  and  comfortable  for  my  /ecturing  tour." 

"  Your  lecturing  tour !"  I  echoed,  forgetting  for  a  moment 
my  own  annoyances  in  the  fresh  surprise  of  this  announce- 
ment. "  Are  you  going  a-lecturing,  Honoria?"  and  despite 
my  wish  to  be  gentle,  I  am  aware  my  voice  was  decidedly 
sarcastic  in  its  inflection.  "  What  on,  pray?  Politics  or  tem- 
perance? Do  you  like  the  idea  of  becoming  a  platform 
woman?" 

"  As  well  be  a  platform  woman  as  a  platform  man,"  she  re- 
plied, with  a  touch  of  defiance.  "  I've  got  a  good  voice — bet- 
ter than  most  men's — and  I've  heaps  to  say.  I  met  a  Mr. 
Sharp  down  at  Glen  Ruach ;  he's  an  agent  for  that  sort  of 
thing — farmed  out  lots  of  lecturers  both  here  and  in  the 
States;  he's  agreed  to  farm  out  me.  Good  terms  too;  he  says 
he  knows  I'll  'draw'  immensely.  All  expenses  paid — in  fact, 
you  needn't  bother  about  making  me  any  allowance  unless 
you  want  to  for  form's  sake — I  can  earn  my  own  living 
comfortably." 

"  Has  he  heard  you  lecture?"  I  inquired,  ignoring  this  in- 
dependent latter  part  of  her  speech.  "  Is  he  acquainted  with 
your  capabilities  in  that  line?" 


56  MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE! 

She  smiled — a  wide,  hard  smile. 

"Rather;  I  gave  them  all  a  taste  of  my  quality  down  at 
Glen  Ruach — lectured  on  Man — and  I  thought  Sharp  would 
have  split  with  laughing!  Awfully  funny  fellow,  Sharp — 
Sharp  by  name  and  Sharp  by  nature.  But  he's  first-class — 
awfully  first-class !  I  signed  the  agreement  with  him  before 
eaving." 

"Without  consulting  me?"!  observed,  frigidly,  "Very 
A'ifely  and  kind  on  your  part,  Honoria!" 

"  Oh,  bother!"  she  said,  rapidly;  "wives  don't  consult  their 
husbands  nowadays — that  sort  of  thing's  exploded.  Each 
party  manages  his  or  her  own  affairs.  Besides,  I  knew  you'd 
make  all  manner  of  objections." 

"  Oh,  you  did  know  that!"  and  I  looked  at  her  steadfastly. 
"  Well,  Honoria,  in  that  case  perhaps  it  7uiil  be  best  to  do  as 
you  say — mutually  agree  to  separate,  for  a  time  at  least; 
though  you  have  not  thought  of  the  child  in  the  matter ;  is  he 
to  be  my  care  or  yours?" 

"Good  gracious!  Yours,  of  course,"  she  replied,  very  em- 
phatically. "  I  can't  go  touring  about  the  country  with  a 
shrieking  brat!  Has  he  roared  old  mammy  into  deafness 
yet?" 

"  No,  he  has  not,"  I  said.  "  He  has  not  indulged  much  in 
'roaring,'  as  you  call  it,  since  he  left  your  tender  maternal 
care,  Honoria!" 

I  pronounced  the  words  "  tender  maternal  care"  with  marked 
and  slightly  scornful  emphasis.  She  glanced  at  me,  and  her 
full  lips  curled  disdainfully. 

"  Look  here,  Mr.  William  Tribkin !"  she  announced, 
"You're  a  slow  coach!  that's  what  you  are — a  slow  coach  of 
very  mediaeval  pattern!  Your  wheels  want  greasing;  you 
take  too  long  a  time  getting  over  the  road !  And  you  talk  a 
vast  deal  of  old  sentimental  rubbish.  I  hate  it !  I  hate  fads 
too,  and  you  are  a  faddist !  You  want  me — me — to  be  a  docile, 
thank-you-for-nothing-humble-servant-yours-faithfuUy  sort  of 
woman,  dragging  about  the  house  with  a  child  pulling  at  her 
skirts  and  worrying  her  all  day  long;  you  want  to  play  the 
male  tyrant  and  oppressor,  don't  you?  but  you  wont!  not  with 
7ne,  at  any  rate!  You've  got  a  free  woman  in  me,  /tell  you, 
not  a  sixteenth-century  slave !  My  constitution  is  as  good  as 
yours;  my  brain  is  several  degrees  better;  I'm  capable  of 
making  a  brilliant  career  for  myself  in  any  profession  I  choose 


MY    WONDERFUL   WIFE!  57 

to  follow,  and  you   are   and  always  will  be  a  mere  useful 
nonentity.     You  are — " 

"Stop!  that  is  enough,  Honoria,"  I  said,  decisively,  rising 
from  the  table.  "  You  need  not  go  out  of  your  way  to  insult 
me — pray  spare  yourself!  Mere  'useful  nonentity'  as  I  am,  I 
am  man  enough  to  despise  vulgar  notoriety;  and  you,  though 
your  conduct  is  tinwomanly,  are  still  woman  enough  to  court 
and  eagerly  accept  that  questionable  distinction.  As  you  so 
elegantly  express  it,  I  am  a  'slow  coach ;'  my  ideas  of  woman- 
hood are  sadly  old-fashioned  indeed!  I  do  not  wish  to  play 
the  'male  tyrant,'  but  I  want  to  feel  the  part  of  the  true  lover 
and  loyal  husband,  and  this  is  an  honor  unhappily  denied  to 
me!  Our  marriage  has  been  an  error;  it  only  remains  to  us 
now  to  make  the  best  of  our  position.  You  wish  to  go  your 
way,  and  your  way  is  distinctly  not  mine.  As  you  will  not 
submit  to  me,  and  /have  not  so  completely  ignored  my  man- 
hood as  to  submit  to  you,  why  then  it  follows  that  we  must 
separate ;  let  us  hope — let  7ne  hope,  Honoria,  that  it  may  only 
be  for  a  short  time.  You  may  rely  on  my  pursuing  the  honor- 
able fidelity  I  swore  to  you  on  our  marriage-day,  and  I — "  I 
paused,  then  continued,  earnestly :  "  I  would  not  insult  you 
by  presuming  to  question  yours."  Again  I  waited;  she  was 
quite  silent,  but  she  drew  from  her  side-pocket  her  case  of 
cigarettes,  and  lighting  one,  puffed  away  at  it  in  a  meditative 
fashion.  "  This  is  a  fast  age,  Honoria,"  I  went  on,  regretfully, 
"  and  it  breeds  an  unconscionable  number  of  'fast'  women  and 
men ;  but  I  want  you  to  believe,  if  you  can,  that  chivalry  is 
not  altogether  extinct — that  there  are  a  few  gentlemen  left, 
of  which  class  I  hope  I  may  humbly  call  myself  one — a  very 
poor-spirited,  dull  gentleman,  no  doubt,  but  who  still  would 
rather  lead  a  lonely  and  uncheered  life  in  the  world  than 
interfere  with  your  happiness,  or  spoil  what  you  imagine  to 
be  the  brilliant  promise  of  your  independent  career.  You 
have  never  deemed  yourself  under  any  sort  of  authority 
to  me — that  would  be  too  'old-fashioned'  a  notion  for  an 
advanced  feminine  intelligence  like  yours" — here  she  puffed 
out  the  smoke  from  her  lips  in  little  artistic  rings — "  so 
that  there  is  no  need  to  say  to  you,  'Be  at  liberty!'  You 
are  aX  liberty;  you  always  have  been — no  doubt  you  always 
will  be.  But  there  are  various  sorts  of  liberty;  one  is 
the  non-restraint  and  license  riskily  enjoyed  by  young  men 
about  town,  whose  families  are  utterly   indifferent   to  their 


58  MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE! 

fate  (and  this  is  what  you  seem  to  desire) ;  another  is  that 
g©ntl-e  latitude  controlled  by  the  affectionate  solicitude  and 
protection  of  those  who  love  you  better  than  themselves ;  an- 
other (and  here  we  find  the  truest  liberty  of  woman)  is  the 
freedom  a  wife  possesses  to  guide  and  comfort  and  inspire  to 
greatest  ends  her  husband's  life  and  career.  Through  woman's 
love,  man  performs  his  noblest  labors.  Believe  it!  Through 
woman's  love,  I  say,  not  through  woman's  opposition!  But  I 
must  apologize  to  you  for  talking  sentimental  rubbish  again. 
It  is  understood  that  we  agree  to  separate  for  the  present,  and 
I  will  call  on  my  lawyer  about  the  matter  this  afternoon. 
Half  of  every  penny  I  have  or  earn  shall  be  yours,  as  is  your 
just  due ;  this  house,  which  I  shall  vacate  as  soon  as  possible, 
is  also  at  your  service.  And  I  hope,  Honoria" — here  I  cleared 
my  throat  from  an  uncomfortable  huskiness — "  I  hope  this 
arrangement,  though  it  seems  necessary  now,  may  not  be  of 
long  continuance — I  shall  be  a  proud  and  happy  man  when  the 
day  dawns  on  which  my  wife  and  I  can  meet  again  and  live 
together  in  that  absolute  sympathy  I  so  earnestly  desire !" 

I  ceased.  She  looked  up  through  the  cloud  of  tobacco 
smoke  that  encircled  her  head,  and  there  was  just  a  little 
softness  about  her  eyes  which  made  them  prettier  for  the 
moment.  Taking  her  cigarette  from  her  mouth,  she  flicked 
off  the  ash  into  her  breakfast-plate. 

"You're  a  capital  fellow.  Will,"  she  said;  "regular  first- 
class,  only  a  leetle  slow  !"  and  she  extended  one  hand,  which  I 
took  and  pressed  earnestly  in  my  own.  "  Look  here,  I  tell 
you  what!  I'll  get  through  my  lecturing  tour,  and  if  you 
want  me  back  after  that,  why,  I'll  come — honor  bright!" 

I  sighed,  released  her  hand  gently,  and  left  her.  I  dared 
not  inquire  so  far  into  the  future ;  I  hesitated  to  speculate  as 
to  whether  I  should  indeed  want  her  back  then!  However, 
our  minds  were  unanimously  made  up  on  one  point — namely, 
the  advisability  of  separation  for  the  present;  and  within  the 
next  few  days  the  affair  was  quietly  arranged,  much  to  the 
distress  of  old  Mrs.  Maggs,  who  wept  copiously  when  she  heard 
of  it,  and  for  some  mysterious  reason,  known  only  to  herself, 
persisted  in  calling  my  child  a  "poor  orphan."  Georgie  said 
little,  but  no  doubt  thought  the  more,  and  was  sweetly,  silently 
sympathetic.  My  wife  started  for  some  big  manufacturing 
town  in  the  provinces,  where  she  was  to  begin  her  lecturing 
campaign ;   our  house  was  let  for  twelve  months  (Honoria's 


MY  WONDERFUL  WIFE!  59 

management — she  was  a  wonderful  business  woman) ;  the 
babj'  remained  in  the  charge  of  his  grandmother,  and  I  took  a 
set  of  chambers  near  Pall  Mall  and  resumed  a  humdrum 
bachelor  life. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

MY    wife's    lecture. 

The  cynical  philosopher  and  the  self-sufficient  epicurean 
may  now  perhaps  feel  disposed  to  congratulate  me  on  having 
easily  and  conveniently  got  rid  of  my  wife ;  the  modern  Di- 
ogenes of  the  literary  clubs  may  growl  "  Lucky  man!"  and  the 
nineteenth-century  Solomon  of  Hyde  Park  and  Piccadilly  may 
murmur  over  these  pages :  "  There  is  nothing,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, better  for  a  fellow  to  do  than  to  eat,  drink,  and 
be  merry  all  the  days  of  his  life,  for  whatever  cometh  not  of 
these  is  vanity !"  But,  truth  to  tell,  I  was  not  in  an  enviable 
condition  at  all.  The  resumption  of  a  solitary  existence  in 
chambers  was  far  from  agreeable  to  me ;  for  I  had  passed  the 
age  when  going  to  the  theater  seemed  the  chief  glory  of  life, 
and  I  had  not  yet  arrived  at  that  matured  paunchiness  when 
to  dine  well  and  drink  good  wine  till  the  nose  becomes  rosy 
and  lustrous  is  the  acme  of  every  sensible  man's  ambition. 
So  that  I  was  very  lonely,  and  very  conscious  of  my  loneli- 
ness. The  gaunt,  pious,  and  respectable  female  who  attended 
to  my  rooms  was  not  exactly  the  -sort  of  person  one  would 
choose  to  provide  a  drooping  spirit  with  mental  cheer ;  the 
hall  porter  at  my  club — an  exceedingly  friendly  fellow — 
seemed  sorry  for  me  now  and  then,  but  refrained  from  invit- 
ing me  to  weep  out  my  woes  upon  his  brass-buttoned  breast. 
True,  I  visited  my  mother-in-law's  house  frequently — saw  the 
fair  little  Georgie  and  her  betrothed  earl,  and  looked  on 
mournfully  at  their  demurely  graceful  love-making;  and  I 
danced  my  infant  son  on  my  knee  to  Banbury  Cross  and  back 
again  with  much  satisfaction,  finding  that  every  time  I  did  it 
his  soft  chuckles  became  more  and  more  confidential,  and  that 
though  at  present  his  langiiage  was  unintelligible,  he  evidently 
meant  it  kindly.  Still  I  had  the  feeling  upon  me  of  being  a 
desolate  and  deserted  man,  and  though  I  absorbed  myself  as 
much  as  possible  in  books  and  made  the  best  of  my  position, 
I  could  nut  deem  myself  happy.     Life,  which  I  had  fancied 


60  MY   WONDERFUL  WIFE! 

rounded  into  completion  when  I  married,  seemed  now  broken 
off  in  some  strange  and  uncouth  way — it  was  like  one  of  thoije 
odd-looking  roses  that  through  blight  or  disease  bloom  half- 
petaled,  and  never  get  shaped  into  the  perfect  flower. 

Honoria  had  been  a  long  time  absent  in  the  provinces ;  fully 
five  months  had  passed  since  our  parting,  and  the  February  of 
the  new  year  was  now  just  at  an  end.  I  had  never  heard  from 
her  all  that  time,  neither  had  she  written  to  any  member  of 
her  own  family.  Her  allowance  had  been  paid  to  her  regu- 
larly through  her  bankers,  and  so  far  as  I  knew  she  was  well 
and  flourishing.  Now  and  again  I  heard  far-off  rumors  of 
Mrs.  Tribkin's  ability  as  a  lecturer,  but  I  rather  avoided  all 
those  newspapers  in  which  her  doings  were  likely  to  be  men- 
tioned. I  shrunk  from  the  pennyworths  of  scandal,  called  by 
conrtQsy  journals,  lest  I  should  find  her  name  figuring  ridicu- 
lously in  a  set  of  vulgarly  worded  paragraphs,  such  as  are 
sometimes  strung  together  for  the  sake  of  gratuitously  insult- 
ing our  good  and  noble  queen  in  her  age  (I  wonder  what 
British  officers  are  about,  by  the  bye,  that  they  let  this  sort  of 
thing  go  on  without  a  single  soldierly  and  manful  protest?), 
and  thus  it  happened  that  to  me  it  was  almost  as  if  my  wjife 
were  dead,  or  at  any  rate  gone  on  some  exceedingly  far  jour- 
ney from  which  it  seemed  highly  probable  she  would  never 
return.  So  that  I  received  a  positive  shock  of  surprise  one 
afternoon  when,  on  arriving  at  my  club,  I  found  a  letter  ad- 
dressed to  me  in  the  big,  bold  handwriting  which  was  like 
nobody's  in  the  world,  so  thoroughly  characteristic  was  it  of 
Honoria,  and  of  Honoria  alone.  I  opened  it  with  a  sort  of 
eager  trepidation.  Was  she  regretting  the  step  she  had  taken, 
and  was  this  to  propose  a  friendly  meeting  with  a  view  to 
partnership  in  joy  and  sorrow  once  more?  A  thick  card 
dropped  out  of  the  envelope ;  I  picked  it  up  without  looking 
at  it;  my  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  letter  itself — my  wife's  letter 
to  me — which  ran  as  follows : 

"  Dear  Willie, — I've  done  the  provinces,  and  am  coming  to 
London  to  give  a  lecture  in  Prince's  Hall,  Piccadilly.  As 
you've  never  heard  me  hold  forth,  I  inclose  a  ticket — five 
shilling  fauteuil — so  I  hope  you'll  be  comfortable.  It's  a 
good  seat,  where  you'll  have  a  straight  view  of  me  any  way. 
How  are  you?  First-class,  I  hope.  /  never  was  better  in 
my  life.     Am  leaving  for  the  States  in  the  middle  of  March; 


•  MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE!  6 1 

they're  'booming'  me  there  now.     I'm  beating  all  the  'Whist- 
ling Ladies'  hollow!     Would  you  like  to  dine  with  me  at  the 
Grosvenor  before  I  start?    If  so,  come  behind  the  platform 
after  the  lecture  and  let  me  know. 
"  Yours  ever, 

"  HoNORiA  Hatwell-Tribkin." 

Dine  with  her  at  the  Grosvenor !  She  seemed  to  entirely 
forget  that  I  was  her  husbatid — her  separated,  deserted  hus- 
band !  It  was  the  letter  of  a  man  to  a  man,  yet  she  was  my 
wife — parted  from  me — but  still  my  wife.  Dine  with  her  at 
the  Grosvenor!  Never — never!  I  put  the  letter  back  in  its 
envelope  with  trembling  fingers,  and  then  looked  at  the  ticket 
— the  "five  shilling  fauteuil."  Good  heavens!  I  thought  I 
should  have  tumbled  in  a  swooning  heap  on  the  carpet,  so 
great  was  my  astonishment  and  dismay !     This  is  what  I  read: 

PRINCE'S  HALL,  PICCADILLY. 


LECTURE 
BY 

MRS.  HONORIA  HATWELL-TRIBKIN. 
Subject:    "  On  the  Advisability  of  Mens  Apparel  for  Women." 

Headings  :  i.  The  inconvenience  of  women's  dress  generally. 

2.  The  superior  comfort  enjoyed  by  men. 

3.  Cheapness,  quality,  and  durability  of  men's  clothing. 

4.  The  advantages  of  Social  Uniformity. 

N.  B.—The  Lecturer  will  give  from  time  to  time  Practical  Illustrations  of 

her  Theory. 


TO    COMMENCE    AT    8    P.   M.    PRECISELY. 

FAUTEUIL,    5S.  ADMIT   ONE. 

Men's  apparel  for  women!  Social  uniformity!  Practical 
illustrations  of  the  theory!  Ye  gods!  I  gasped  for  breath, 
and  staggered  to  an  arm-chair,  wherein  I  sunk  exhausted  by 
the  excess  of  my  wonder !  The  idea  of  the  "  practical  illustra- 
tions" was  what  worried  me.  I  tried  to  imagine  their  nature, 
but  failed  in  the  effort.  I  could  not  conceive  any  "  practical 
illustrations"  on  such  a  subject  possible — in  public!  Would 
she  have  an  assorted  pile  of  men's  garments  on  a  table  beside 
her,  and  taking  them  up  one  by  one,  point  out  their  various 
attractions?    Would  she  discourse  eloquently  on  the  simplicity 


62  MY   WONDERFUL  WIFE! 

of  the  shirt;  the  rapid  sliding-on  of  the  trousers;  the  easy 
charm  of  the  waistcoat,  and  the  graceful  gayety  of  the 
"  monkey-jacket?"  Would  she  attempt  to  describe  the  proper 
setting  of  a  stifE  collar,  for  instance?  No!  let  her  not  dare 
such  a  task  as  this !  Let  her  not  presume  to  touch  on  that 
supremest  point  of  sublime  masculine  agony !  My  own  collar 
became  suddenly  ill-fitting  as  I  thought  of  it,  and  hitched  up 
against  my  ear.  Full  of  that  wild  rage  which  convulses  a  man 
when  his  linen  worries  him,  I  flew  to  the  looking-glass  and 
busied  myself  for  some  minutes  setting  it  straight,  my  coun- 
tenance darkening  into  an  apoplectic  red  as  I  strained  at  the 
starchy  button-hole  and  refractory  button.  D — n  it !  There ! 
it  was  all  right  now ;  and  heaving  a  sigh  of  relief,  I  sat  down 
again  and  fell  into  a  melancholy  reverie.  I  would  7iot  go  and 
dine  at  the  Grosvenor  with  that  wonderful  wife  of  mine  (every- 
body said  she  was  wonderful,  and  I  don't  deny  it) ;  no,  I 
would  not !  But  should  I  go  and  hear  her  lecture?  This  was 
the  question  that  now  tormented  me.  Perhaps  it  would  be 
wise  on  my  part ;  perhaps  my  very  presence  would  arouse  in 
her  mind  some  touch  of  remorse,  some  tinge  of  regret,  for 
days  that  once  had  been ;  ah !  days  that  once  had  been !  That 
sounded  like  poetry,  and  I  knew  where  I  had  heard  it.  A 
sweet  maid  of  about  fifty  had  sung  it  at  Mrs.  Maggs'  the  other 
evening  in  a  voice  that  sounded  rather  like  a  penny  whistle 
which  had  got  a  drop  of  water  into  it  by  mistake.  I  hummed 
it  under  my  breath  sentimentally : 

*'  We  wandered  by  the  little  rill 
That  sparkled  o'er  the  green, 
And  oh !  we  lov'd  the  mem'ry  still 

Of  days  that  once,  o-once  ha-ad  been  !" 

Ah,  rills  might  "  sparkle"  over  any  amount  of  "  green,"  but 
Honor?a  would  never  wander  by  them  more;  never — never! 
She  n-^ver  //a^  wandered,  and  she  never  would  wander;  the 
wandering  business  was  reserved  for  me !  Here  I  recognized 
that  my  thoughts  were  becoming  confused,  and  rising,  I  thrust 
my  wife's  letter  and  the  five-shilling  ticket  into  my  pocket, 
determining  to  think  no  more  about  it. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  however,  I  did  think  more  about  it.  I 
thought  about  it  so  much  that  at  last  I  could  not  get  it  out  of 
my  head.  The  "  subject"  of  that  threatened  dissertation  "  On 
the  Advisability  of  Men's  Apparel  for  Women"  wrote  itself  on 


MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE!  63 

lire  air  before  me.  I  found  myself  looking  into  tailors'  shops 
with  a  morbid  curiosity,  and  wondering  how  such  and  such  a 
check  or  striped  pattern  would  suit  pretty  little  Georgie,  who 
in  the  June  of  that  year  was  to  be  made  Countess  of  Richmoor; 
and  then  I  took  to  fancying  how  I,  a  specimen  of  despised  and 
wretched  man,  should  figure  in  one  of  those  lustrous  silk  bro- 
cades and  dainty  gossamer  stuffs  that  filled  the  drapers'  plate- 
glass  windows;  for  if  women  liked  men's  apparel  so  much  as 
to  wear  it,  why  then,  if  only  for  the  sake  of  trade,  apart  from 
the  question  of  contrast,  men  would  have  to  go  into  trains  and 
tight  bodices.  Everything  was  going  to  be  turned  topsy- 
turvy, I  dismally  decided ;  this  planet  had  surely  got  an  awk- 
ward tilt  from  some  mischievous  demon  of  misrule,  and  we 
were  all  going  mad  or  eccentric  in  consequence.  My  brain 
was  in  a  whirl  any  way,  and  that  wretched  "  Bobbie"  with  the 
mustaches  seemed  to  know  it.  I  met  him  one  day  by  chance; 
he  was  still  "  on  the  river,"  though  it  was  winter-time ;  he  was 
painting  and  decorating  the  interior  of  his  "  little  house-boat" 
with  Wonderall's  Enamel  or  something  of  that  kind.  He 
looked  more  like  a  "  penny  novelette"  hero  than  ever,  and  of 
course  he  was  fully  aware  of  Honoria's  lecturing  powers. 

"  Oh,  I  should  go  and  hear  her  if  I  were  you,"  he  said,  with 
a  languid  lifting  of  his  eyelids,  which  was  a  trick  of  his,  prac- 
ticed in  order  to  display  the  length  of  his  dark  lashes  and  the 
feminine  softness  of  his  big  brown  eyes.  "  She's  awfully 
clever,  you  know;  regular  A  One!  Her  'subject'  too  will 
'draw'  immensely.  If  I  were  not  on  the  river  just  now  I'd  go 
too,  I  really  would!    It's  sure  to  be  capital  fun!" 

Thoughtless  young  brute !  "  Capital  fun !"  for  me?  Did  he 
actually  think  so?  I  suppose  he  did ;  he  was  a  perfect  idiot 
on  all  "  subjects"  save  boating — a  mere  fish!  Scrape  his  gills 
and  cook  him  for  dinner!  That  meaningless  absurdity  of  a 
phrase  came  ringing  back  on  my  ears  with  all  the  delirious 
pertinacity  of  its  first  suggestion,  and  I  parted  from  him 
abruptly  in  no  very  friendly  mood.  He  told  me  I  looked 
"  seedy"  as  he  went  on  his  way,  and  I  fancied  I  saw  a  smile  of 
amused  compassion  under  those  long  mustaches  of  his — a 
smile  for  which  I  loftily  despised  him. 

Finally,  after  much  painful  hesitation,  I  resolved  to  be  pres- 
ent at  my  wife's  lecture,  and  having  once  made  up  my  mind, 
felt  a  little  more  at  ease.  I  tried  to  get  into  that  cynical  don't- 
carish  mood  that  some  fellows  are  able  to  adopt  very  quiokly 


64  MY   WONDERFUL  WIFE! 

when  their  wives  prove  disappointing,  but  I  am  (unfortunately) 
rather  a  soft-hearted  booby,  and  it  will  take  a  good  while  to 
turn  me  into  a  downright  hard-as-nails  business  curmudgeon. 
I've  made  several  efforts  in  that  direction;  efforts  which  my 
podgy  and  dimpled  son  invariably  causes  to  come  to  naught 
with  one  blow  of  his  chubby  fist,  and  one  chuckle  of  his  re- 
markably abstruse  language.  However,  let  that  pass;  I  know 
there  are  a  good  many  men  like  me,  so  I'm  not  alone  in  my 
folly ! 

The  evening — the  fated,  fatal  evening — came  at  last,  and  by 
half  past  seven  I  was  so  much  excited  that  I  found  it  would  be 
impossible  to  walk  calmly  to  Prince's  Hall  without  attracting 
attention  by  my  erratic  behavior.  I  felt  that  I  should  grin 
convulsively,  gesticulate  and  talk  to  myself  on  the  way,  in 
exactly  the  same  fashion  that  old  Bowser  of  the  Stock  Ex- 
change does  when  he's  annoyed,  much  to  the  surprise  and 
amusement  of  staring  street  passengers.  So  to  avoid  unpleas- 
antness I  took  a  hansom.  I  must  not  omit  to  mention  that  I 
had  told  Mrs.  Maggs  and  all  her  household  about  it.  Mrs. 
Maggs  had  wept,  Georgie  had  sighed,  and  the  other  members 
of  the  family  had  exchanged  comical  glances  one  with  the 
other,  but  none  of  them  would  accompany  me  to  hear  Honoria's 
eloquence.  Her  "  subject"  seemed  to  them  rather  more  alarm- 
ing than  attractive.  I  told  Richmoor,  and  he  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  looked  amiable  as  was  his  wont,  and  pressed  my 
hand  with  particular  warmth  and  sympathy,  but  he  made  no 
remark,  nor  did  he  volunteer  to  support  me  in  the  trial  I  had 
resolved  to  undergo.  For  it  was  a  trial — it  is  a  trial  to  any 
true  man  to  see  his  wife  made  vulgarly  notorious.  I  can  pity 
from  my  soul  the  set-aside  husbands  of  "  professional"  beauties 
and  "  society"  actresses ;  I  can  sympathize  with  them — I  do 
sympathize  with  them !  And  I  would  advise  young  fellows 
who  have  not  yet  made  up  their  minds  where  to  choose  a  wife 
to  avoid  taking  one  from  any  public  exhibit.  Don't  marry  a 
"beauty"  oiit  of  a  prize-show;  don't  take  a  Dulcinea  of  the 
bottle  and  tap;  don't  select  a  smoking,  betting,  "crack-shot"' 
and  sportswoman,  as  I,  in  blind  ignorance,  did;  don't  give  any 
preference  to  a  female  anatomist  and  surgeon,  who  knows  the 
names  of  every  bone  and  muscle  in  your  body;  in  fact,  don't 
take  any  "  celebrity"  at  all,  unless  her  celebrity  be  worn  with 
that  grand  unconscious  simplicity  which  marks  a  sweet 
woman's  nature  as  well  as  a  great  genius'  career.     But   I 


MY  WONDERFUL   WIFE!  65 

mustn't  stop  to  moralize — the  married  clergymen  who  run 
away  with  young  girls  will  do  that  much  better  than  I  can. 
My  business  is  to  relate  the  sulTerings  I  underwent  at  that 
never-to-be-forgotten  discourse :  "  On  the  Advisability  of 
Men's  Apparel  for  Women."  As  I  said,  I  took  a  hansom,  and 
was  driven  up  to  the  door  of  Prince's  Hall  in  a  stylish,  plung- 
ing manner  that  did  considerable  credit  to  the  guiding  Jehu 
of  the  course,  and  found  a  large  number  of  people  filing  in, 
men  and  women.  Among  the  latter  I  noticed  several  of  the 
"  fine"  bouncing  type  of  girl,  such  as  Honoria  had  been  when 
I  first  made  her  acquaintance.  There  was  a  good  deal  of 
sniggering  and  laughing,  I  thought,  uncomfortably,  especially 
on  the  part  of  some  carelessly  attired  gentlemen  with  rather 
tough  hair,  whom  I  afterward  discovered  to  be  reporters  for 
the  different  newspapers.  Was — was  the  "  Daily  Telegraph" 
represented?  I  really  don't  know,  but  I  should  say  it  was.  I 
can  not  imagine  any  corner  of  the  earth,  air,  or  ocean  where 
that  sublimely  sonorous  organ  of  the  press  is  ;z(^/ represented! 
I  could  not  find  my  fan  ten  il,  and  a  shabby  gentleman  in  a 
threadbare  dress  suit,  with  a  much-worn  pair  of  lavender  kid 
gloves,  came  to  my  assistance,  took  my  ticket,  and  beckoned 
me  in  a  ghostly  manner  to  follow  him.  I  obeyed,  with  a  deep 
sense  of  confusion  upon  me.  Did  he  guess  I  was  the  lecturer's 
despised  husband,  I  wondered?  and  was  that  the  reason  why 
he  smiled  so  spaciously,  displaying  a  set  of  extremely  yellow 
teeth,  as  I  stumbled  with  a  murmured  "  Thanks !"  into  the 
middle  of  the  very  front  row  of  fai/tciiils,  right  opposite  the 
platform?  It  was  very  warm,  I  thought;  excessivelj'' so  for 
March!  and  furtively  wiping  my  heated  brow,  I  looked  about 
me.  The  hall  was  filling  fast,  and  the  suppressed  sniggering 
and  laughter  continued.  Two  of  the  gentlemen  with  the  dis- 
orderly hair  before  mentioned  were  ushered  respectively  into 
the  seats  on  each  side  of  me.  They  were  stout  and  I  was  thin, 
so  that  I  seemed  to  be  thrown  in  casually  between  them,  like 
the  small  piece  of  meat  in  a  station  sandwich.  They  were 
old  acquaintances  evidently,  and  conversed  now  and  then  with 
each  other  behind  my  back,  one  scattering  odors  of  recent  ale 
from  his  beard,  the  other  dispersing  a  warm  onion  breath 
down  my  neck.  But  I  was  always  a  timid  man  and  a  patient 
one.  I  did  not  like  to  move  from  the  seat  Honoria  had 
specially  chosen  for  me,  and  I  never  was  successful  in  the  ait 
of  casting  indignant  glances  out  of  the  corner  of  my  eye,  so  I 


66  MY  WONDERFUL   WIFE! 

sat  very  quiet,  fumbling'  nervously  with  the  printed  "  Synop- 
sis of  Lecture,"  which  was  a  mere  repetition  of  what  had 
already  been  announced  on  the  ticket  of  admission,  and  wait- 
ing, in  really  dreadful  suspense,  for  my  wife's  appearance. 

The  hall  was  now  pretty  full,  a  good  many  stragglers 
occupying  the  balcony  as  well ;  they  were  admitted,  I  after- 
ward heard,  for  the  modest  sum  of  threepence.  Eight  o'clock 
struck,  and  punctual  to  the  minute  there  stepped  briskly  on 
the  platform  a  young  fellow,  who  was  greeted  with  quite  a 
burst  of  tumultuous  shouting  and  applause.  I  gazed  at  him 
doubtingly.  I  supposed  he  had  come  to  say  that  Mrs.  Tribkin 
was  not  quite  ready,  but  that  she  would  appear  immediately; 
when  he  suddenly  smiled  and  gave  me  a  friendly  nod  of  rec- 
ognition. Good  Heaven !  "  the  young  fellow"  was  Honoria 
herself !  I  turned  faint  and  giddy  with  snrpTise—I/onoria  ? 
Yes!  it  7C'as  Honoria,  dressed  precisely  like  a  man,  in  an 
ordinary  lounge  suit  of  rough  tweed,  the  only  difference  being 
that  the  coat  was  rather  more  ample  in  its  skirts  and  was  made 
to  come  slightly  below  the  knee.  I  stared  and  stared  and 
stared,  till  I  thought  my  eyes  would  have  dropped  out  of  my 
head  on  the  floor!  Shirt-front,  high  collar,  neck-tie,  waist- 
coat, trousers,  everything  complete,  there  she  was  all  ready; 
ready  and  willing  to — fo  make  a  fool  of  herself!  Yes,  it  was 
nothing  more  or  less  than  this ;  and  I  realized  it  with  smarting 
indignation  and  shame !  Had  I  not  occupied  such  a  prominent 
seat  I  should  then  and  there  have  left  the  hall ;  indeed  I  was 
almost  on  the  point  of  doing  so,  when  her  voice  struck  through 
the  air  with  that  resonant  vibration  it  always  possessed — the 
subdued  murmur  and  giggling  of  the  audience  ceased,  and 
there  w^as  an  expectant  silence. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  the  lecturer,  "  you  are  very 
welcome !"  Here  she  raised  her  hat  and  smiled  benignly.  (I 
forgot  to  mention  that  she  wore  a  regular  "  deerstalker"  when 
she  first  came  on,  for  the  sole  reason,  as  it  now  appeared,  of 
"  practically  illustrating"  the  careless  mode  of  a  man's  saluta- 
tion.) "  You  see  how  I  greet  you,  easily  and  without  affecta- 
tion! I  do  not  courtesy  to  you  like  a  milkmaid  receiving  an 
unexpected  shilling,  nor  do  I  perform  a  back-sweeping,  smirk- 
ing reverence  like  a  fashionable  prima-donna  who  desires  her 
audience  to  mentally  calculate  the  cost  of  her  gown  before 
testing  the  value  of  her  voice.  I  raise  my  hat  to  you ;  I  put  it 
down  altogether — a  simple  action  which  signifies  that  I  am  at 


MY    WONDERFUL   WIFE.'  6/ 

home  with  you  for  the  present,  so  perfectly  at  home  that  I 
have  no  intention  of  taking  an  abrupt  leave !"  Another  smile, 
and  the  "  deerstalker"  was  placed  on  a  chair  beside  her,  and  a 
violent  clapping  of  hands,  mingled  with  some  faint  "  bravos," 
rewarded  these  first  sentences.  She  ruffled  up  her  short  hair, 
and  bringing  the  lecturing  desk  more  into  position,  turned 
over  the  pages  of  a  manuscript  thereon  with  a  considering  air, 
thus  giving  the  audience  time  to  study  her  through  their 
opera-glasses,  and  the  reporters  to  take  notes. 

"  Fine  woman,  isn't  she?"  whispered  the  ale-odorous  man 
behind  me  to  his  press  comrade. 

"  Can't  tell,"  replied  this  other,  imperturbably.  "  Wants  her 
own  clothes  on  to  show  her  off.  She  may  have  a  shape,  or 
she  may  not;  that  coat  defies  detection." 

They  laughed  silently,  and  went  to  work  scribbling  in  their 
note-books;  while  I  wondered  drearily  how  long  I  should  be 
able  to  endure  my  horrible  martyrdom.  I  pictured  myself  as 
suddenly  rising  in  my  fauteiiil  with  hands  uplifted  in  frantic 
protest  at  the  whole  performance ;  or  perhaps,  and  this  seemed 
more  probable  in  my  over-wrought  condition,  I  should  laugh 
—laugh  so  loudly  and  so  long  that  I  should  be  taken  for  a 
lunatic,  and  led  out  of  the  hall  by  the  gentleman  with  the 
yellow  teeth  and  lavender  kids,  who  would  straightway  con- 
fide me  to  the  care  of  a  policeman.  If  I  could  only  get  away 
from  those  two  reporters !  But  I  could  not ;  I  was  the  sand- 
wich of  Fate — the  meat  between  the  bread — and  bit  by  bit 
Misery  was  devouring  me ! 

And  in  another  minute  Honoria  began,  and  I  listened  like 
one  who  hears  awful  nothings  in  a  bad  dream.  Against  the 
"inconvenience  of  women's  dress  generally"  she  poured  the 
most  violent  denunciations;  of  heavy  skirts,  that  clog  the 
movements  of  the  nether  limbs  {she  said  "  legs"  openly,  but  I 
have  too  much  respect  for  the  scruples  of  my  dead  grand- 
mother to  transgress  so  far) ;  of  numerous  and  unnecessary 
petticoats;  of  corsets,  of  "busks"  (what  are  "busks?"),  of 
"  bustles,"  of  "  pads,"  of  "  cushions,"  of  "  steels,"  of  low  necks 
and  short  sleeves  (here  let  me  put  in  a  word  and  say  frankly 
that  I  like  these ;  I  think  a  pretty  neck,  when  not  indecently 
exposed,  and  a  pretty  pair  of  rounded  white  arms,  are  most 
fascinating  studies  to  the  eye  of  a  miserable  man,  who  has  few 
pleasures.  Heaven  knows,  and  who  will  have  fewer  still  if 
the  women  are  all  going  to  be  strong-minded) ;  of  long  hair 


68  MY   WONDERFUL  WIFE! 

pinned  up  in  heavy  brain-stupefying  coils  with  diamond  pins 
tjiat  drag,  and  tortoise-shell  pins  that  break ;  of  bodices  that 
button  in  all  manner  of  odd  places  where  fastening  them  be- 
comes a  difficulty — at  the  side,  at  the  back,  under  the  arm, 
and  on  the  shoulder ;  of  court  trains,  their  length,  their  weight, 
their  costliness,  and  their  absurdity  (they  give  splendor  to  the 
queen's  drawing-room,  though,  and  are  a  boon  and  encourage- 
ment to  the  silk  trade) ;  of  jewels  and  other  useless  adorn- 
ments; of  bouquets,  made  at  great  expense  and  carried  with 
infinite  trouble ;  of  fans,  and  the  affectation  the  use  of  them 
implies;  ay,  down  to  the  long  glove  with  its  innumerable  tiny 
buttons,  which  take  some  people  nearly  half  an  hour  to  fasten 
(I  remembered  Richmoor  was  never  so  happy  as  when  he  was 
gingerly  at  work  putting  all  Georgie's  little  glove-buttons 
through  their  respective  holes ;  he  was  such  a  time  about  it, 
and  he  could  talk  such  a  lot  of  nonsense  while  thus  employed) 
■ — of  all  these  mystic  things,  and  more  than  these,  Honoria 
discoursed  volubly  and  dictatorially,  showering  scorn  on  the 
vanity,  frivolity,  and  total  want  of  intelligence  displayed  by 
the  feminine  mind  that  could  continue  to  countenance  such 
follies  in  the  way  of  clothing.  "  Simplicity,"  she  said,  or 
rather  shouted,  thumping  her  manuscript  as  she  spoke — "  sim- 
plicity and  comfort  are  the  two  main  principles  to  be  observed 
in  the  garmenting  of  human  beings.  From  the  earliest  ages 
of  history  down  to  our  own  time  the  race  has  shown  a  barbaric 
tendency  toward  a  superabundance  of  adornment,  which  is 
most  pernicious  and  fatal  to  true  intellectual  progress. 
From  the  traditional  fig-leaf,  man  came,  according  to  the 
Bible,  to  the  wearing  of  coats  of  skins;  then  followed  in 
sequence  the  absurd  trinkets,  such  as  beads,  belts,  and  head 
ornaments,  which  to  this  day  render  the  appearance  of  a  mere 
savage  ridiculous !  It  is  against  these  useless  parts  of  costume 
that  women  should  open  their  campaign,  and  so  make  a  wider 
advance  upon  that  glorious  land  of  freedom  of  which  they 
have  only  just  crossed  the  border!" 

Here  she  drew  herself  up  with  an  air  of  defiance,  and 
directed  a  glance  of  supreme  contempt  at  7ne  !  Yes,  I'm  posi- 
tive it  was  meant  chiefly  for  me,  though  it  swept  over  and 
encompassed  with  its  withering  light  the  two  reporters,  who 
bent  over  their  note-books  and  went  into  noiseless  spasms  of 
mirth. 

"  When  I  come  to  consider,"  she  resumed  in  tragic  tones, 


MY   WONDERFUL  WIFE!  69 

"  the  second  division  of  my  lecture,  namely,  the  superior  com- 
fort enjoyed  by  men,  my  whole  soul  rises  up  in  arms  against 
the  odious  contrast!"  (Voice  from  the  balcony,  "Hear,  hear! 
Go  it,  young  feller!")  "  Why,  in  Heaven's  name — why,  I  ask, 
should  men  enjoy  superior  comfort?  They  boast  of  their 
physical  strength!  How  long,  I  should  like  to  know,  would 
their  physical  strength  endure  if  they  were  weighted  down 
with  the  heavy  skirts  worn  by  women?  Could  they  walk 
twenty-five  miles  a  day  in  women's  boots?  Could  they  play 
cricket  or  football  in  women's  corsets?  No!  Thus  it  is 
plainly  evident  that  they  enjoy  superior  physical  strength  only 
because  they  are  properly  clothed;  they  have  the  free  use  of 
their  limbs ;  they  are  not  hampered  in  any  movement ;  they 
can  go  out  in  all  weathers  and  not  suffer  in  consequence. 
There  is  no  reason  either  in  law  or  nature  why  they  should 
possess  this  advantage.  Women,  by  adopting  their  style  of 
dress,  will  secure  to  a  great  extent  much  of  their  muscular 
and  powerful  physique — a  condition  of  things  which  is  greatly 
to  be  desired.  It  is  acknowledged  by  all  impartial  and  ad- 
vanced thinkers  that  men  and  women  are,  viewed  as  human 
oeings  merely,  absolutely  equals;  therefore  it  is  necessary  to 
equalize  everything  that  seems  to  set  a  false  dividing  dis- 
tinction between  them,  and  the  question  of  clothing  is  one  of 
the  most  important  to  be  considered.  Now  I  will  ask  you, 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  to  look  at  vie"  and  she  advanced  un- 
blushingly  to  the  edge  of  the  platform.  "  Is  there  anything 
incongruous  in  my  appearance?"  ("  Rather  so,"  cried  the  irre- 
pressible person  in  the  balcony;  but,  whoever  he  was,  his 
voice  was  promptly  stifled.)  "i!  am  perfectly  comfortable;  I 
walk  with  ease" — here  she  strode  up  and  down  manfully,  while 
I  leaned  back  in  my  fauieuil  and  shut  my  eyes.  "Here" — I 
opened  them  again — "  here  are  the  various  convenient  pockets 
which  hold  so  many  things  without  confusion."  (I  realized 
that  this  was  a  "  practical  illustration,"  and  observed  her  with 
melancholy  attention.)  "  And  I  would  remind  you,  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  that  women,  as  a  rule,  are  only  provided  with  one 
pocket."  ("  Oh,  oh,  Honoria,"  shouted  a  man  in  some  far 
corner,  "what  of  their  husbands'  pockets?")  He — she — my 
wife — paid  no  attention  to  this  interruption,  and  went  on 
composedly.  "  Only  one  pocket,  which  scarcely  suffices  to 
contain  the  purse,  handkerchief,  and  card-case.  Now,  in 
this,"  here  she  felt  in  the  left-hand  slit  of  her  jacket,  "  I  have 


f^O  MY   WONDERFUL  WIFE!  ' 

my  cigarettes,  for  I  smoke,  of  course;  in  this,"  another  illus. 
trative  gesture,  "  my  cards  and  handkerchief;  in  this  my  keys; 
in  this  my  purse,  and  so  on.  There  is  a  place  for  everything, 
and  everything  is  in  its  place !  The  waistcoat  I  wear  is  soft 
and  yielding  to  the  figure ;  it  is  warm  without  being  oppres- 
sive, and  no  woman  who  has  not  yet  worn  them  can  properly 
estimate  the  comfort  of  trousers  !  " 

Here  the  decorous  gravity  of  the  audience  entirely  gave 
way,  and  the  whole  place  rang  with  laughter.  The  gentle- 
man in  the  balcony  became  wildly  obstreperous  and  exclaimed 
spasmodically :  "  Hooray !  True  for  you,  my  boy.  Go  it,  go 
it !"  till  he  was  smothered  once  more  into  silence.  The  laugh- 
ter lasted  some  seconds,  and  the  reporter  on  my  left  hand,  the 
man  with  the  beery  beard,  wiping  away  the  moisture  of  merri- 
ment from  his  eyes,  bent  toward  me  in  the  openness  of  his 
heart  and  whispered  confidentially,  "  What  a  game,  isn't  it?" 

I  looked  at  him  with  a  sad  and  frozen  stare — I  was  too 
wretched  to  be  indignant — and  managed  to  force  a  smile  and 
stiff  nod  of  assent.  He  seemed  rather  taken  aback  by  my  ex- 
pression, for  the  mirth  passed  off  his  face,  leaving  only  a 
whimsical  surprise.  He  mused  within  himself  for  awhile,  and 
again  the  ale-scented  beard  approached  my  ear. 

"  Know  her,  perhaps,  do  you?" 

"  I — I  knew  her  once !"  I  replied,  somberly.  ; 

He  glanced  at  me  more  curiously  than  before. 

"  I  wonder  where  her  husband  is?"  was  his  next  remark. 

"  Can't  imagine,"  I  said,  with  curt  and  desperate  sternness. 

He  relapsed  into  meditative  silence,  and  began  drawing  a 
little  caricature  of  Honoria  on  a  blank  page  of  his  note-book. 
She  meanwhile  resumed : 

"  I  am  very  glad,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  that  I  have  provoked 
you  to  laughter — very  glad,  as  this  behavior  on  your  part  con- 
vinces me  more  than  ever  of  the  value  of  my  theory !  All 
great  ideas  have  been  first  laughed  at  ever  since  the  world 
began.  The  notion  of  steam  as  a  motive  power  was  laughed 
at ;  the  Atlantic  cable-wire  was  laughed  at ;  and  naturally  the 
proposition  of  men's  clothing  for  women  must,  like  all  other 
reforming  propositions,  be  at  the  outset  laughed  to  scorn  also. 
But  nevertheless  it  will  take  root — it  is  taking  root — and  it 
will  win  its  way  in  spite  of  all  opposition.  Certain  objections 
have  been  raised  to  my  views  on  behalf  of  trade ;  the  question 
"<s  to  what  would  become  of  a  large  portion  of  trade  if  women 


MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE!  7I 

dressed  like  men  has  often  been  represented  to  me  as  a  very 
serious  obstruction.  But  /say  that  the  freedom,  health,  and 
comfort  of  women  are  more  to  be  considered  than  any  trade ! 
Let  trade  take  care  of  its  own  concerns  as  best  it  may !  In- 
jured in  one  branch  it  will  balance  itself  in  another,  and  we 
are  not  bound  to  take  it  at  all  into  our  calculations.  The 
liberty — the  perfect  liberty — of  woman  is  what  we  have  to 
strive  for;  and  part  of  this  grand  object  will  be  attained  when 
we  have  secured  for  her  the  untrammeled  physical  condi- 
tion boasted  of  and  enjoyed  by  her  would-be  oppressor, 
man !" 

"  Say,  would  you  nurse  the  babies  in  jacket  and  trousers?" 
asked  some  one  at  the  back  of  the  hall,  in  a  high  nasal  tone 
which  was  distinctly  transatlantic.  A  ripple  of  laughter  again 
ran  through  the  audience,  and  Honoria  looked  about  her 
defiantly. 

"  It  is  not  my  province  to  reply  to  the  queries  of  mere  vul- 
gar impertinence,"  she  snapped  out  (cries  of  "Oh,  oh!"), 
"  There  seems  to  be  some  inebriated  individual  present.  Let 
us  hope  he  may  be  persuaded  to  retire !" 

Then  ensued  a  vast  deal  of  officious  scrambling  on  the  part 
of  the  gentleman  with  the  yellow  teeth,  and  a  general  confused 
murmur,  which  ended  in  the  "  inebriated  individual"  openly 
standing  up  and  showing  himself  to  be  a  tall,  rather  fine-look- 
ing fellow,  with  that  sort  of  ease  and  good-humor  about  him 
which  often  characterizes  the  western  American  settler. 

"I'm  not  'inebriated,'  my  gel,"  he  observed,  cheerfully; 
"  but  I'll  leave  this  hall  at  once  with  a  good  deal  more  pleas- 
ure than  I  came  into  it.  Why,  it  riles  me  all  the  wrong  way 
to  hear  you  going  on  like  this  about  equality  in  clothes  and 
such-like  nonsense !  Go  home,  my  gel,  go  home,  and  get  into 
a  pretty  gown  and  fal-lals;  take  two  or  three  hours  to  fix 
yourself  before  your  looking-glass  if  you  like,  and  when  you've 
rigged  yourself  up  as  sweet  and  pretty  as  you  can  be,  see  if 
you  don't  make  more  way  with  the  ruling  of  man  than  you 
ever  will  prancing  on  a  platform!  That's  all  /want  to  say. 
I'm  off  home,  and  apologize  for  interrupting  the  performance! 
Good-night !" 

And  amid  the  smiles  and  encouraging  glances  of  the  whole 
audience,  the  long-limbed  "  inebriate"  departed  amiably ;  and  as 
he  went  I  saw  him  "  tip"  the  gentleman  with  the  yellow  teeth, 
who  became  crook-backed  with  servility  in  consequence.    With 


72  MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE! 

his  departure,  Honoria  took  up  the  thread  of  her  discourse, 
but  she  was  now  very  angry  and  evidently  very  impatient. 
Her  transatlantic  visitor  had  put  her  into  an  extremely  bad 
humor.  She  made  short  work  of  the  "  Cheapness,  quality,  and 
durability  of  men's  clothing,"'  but  when  she  reached  the  "  Ad- 
vantages of  Social  Uniformity,"  she  became  positively  tem- 
pestuous. Regardless  of  coherence  or  sequence,  she  raged 
against  the  "  contemptibility  of  the  system  of  marriage  as  now 
practiced;"  of  the  "  drudgery"  and  "  degradation"  inflicted  on 
women  who  thus  fulfilled  their  "  miserable"  (but  still  natural) 
destiny ;  of  the  "  crushing"  methods  employed  deliberately  by 
the  male  sex  to  break  the  spirit  and  render  insupportable  the 
position  of  the  feminine ;  and  touching  on  the  subject  of 
"  love,"  she  seemed  to  grow  inflamed  inwardly  and  outwardly 
with  scorn. 

"  Love  !"  she  exclaimed,  derisively.  "  We  all  know  what  it 
is  nowadays — a  silly  and  always  condescending  consent  to 
'spoon'  on  the  part  of  the  man,  and  an  equally  silly  but  dis- 
gracefully ready  willingness  to  be  'spooned'  on  the  part  of  the 
girl  who  is  not  yet  awake  to  the  responsibilities  of  her 
position!  Nothing  more  than  this!  It  is  ridiculous!  What 
can  be  more  utterly  absurd  than  to  see  a  free  and  independent 
woman  allowing  her  hand  to  be  kissed — or  her  lips,  for  that 
matter — by  a  so-called  'lover,'  who  is  after  all  accepted  merely 
as  a  business  partner  in  life,  and  who  pays  her  these  grotesque 
attentions  only  as  a  sort  of  immense  favor,  out  of  his  offensive 
benevolence  for  her  supposed  weakly  clinging  and  helpless 
nature?  Oh,  it  is  time  we  should  rebel  against  such  compla- 
cent affabilities!  It  is  time,  I  say,  that  women  who  are  re- 
solved to  walk  in  the  full  light  of  liberty  should  cast  off  the 
trammels  of  old  barbaric  custom  and  prejudice,  and  adopt 
every  right,  every  privilege,  which  the  other  sex  wish  to  debar 
her  from  enjoying!  Let  ultra-foolish  feminine  minds  cling,  if 
they  will  do  so,  to  the  delusion  that  man's  love  will  protect 
and  defend  them;  that  it  is  their  chief  glory  of  life  to  be 
loved;  and  that  their  chief  aim  is  to  render  themselves  worthy 
of  love ;  these  are  the  wretched  dupes  of  their  own  imagina- 
tions, and  their  intellects  will  never  expand !  True  progress 
is  barred  to  them;  the  door  of  wisdom  is  slammed  in  their 
faces !  Those  who  willfully  choose  this  chimera  called  Love 
must  sacrifice  everything  else ;  it  is  a  binding,  narrowing  in- 
fluence in  which  one  life  depends  almost  entirely  upon  the 


MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE!  73 

other,  that  other  often  proving  too  feeble  and  insufficient  to 
support  even  itself!  Be  free,  women — be  free!  Freedom 
never  palls,  Independence  never  satiates,  Progress  never  tires! 
Be  ashamed  to  allow  men  one  iota  of  that  'superiority'  they 
wrongfully  claim  to  possess!  Dispute  with  them  for  every 
inch  of  the  ground  in  every  profession  that  you  are  desirous  of 
entering;  and  beware — beware  of  yielding  one  single  point  of 
your  hardly  gained  independence !  They  will  flatter  you ;  they 
will  tell  the  plainest  of  you  that  she  is  a  Venus,  to  gain  their 
own  private  ends ;  they  will  make  big  eyes  at  you,  and  will 
sigh  audibly  when  they  find  themselves  next  to  you  at  a  con- 
cert or  theater;  but  these  tricks  are  practiced  for  a  purpose- 
to  inveigle  and  dupe  you  into  becoming  their  slaves  !  Resist 
them — resist  them  with  your  utmost  might!  You  will  find 
the  task  easier  when  you  have  thrown  aside  all  useless  frip- 
pery and  adornment,  and  adopted  their  garments,  and  with 
their  garments  their  liberty !  They  will  accept  you  then  as 
equals,  as  comrades,  as  friends" — ("No,  they  won't!"  shouted 
the  person  in  the  balcony)—"  they  will  leave  off  their  foolish, 
unbecoming  endearments" — ("By  Jove,  that  they  certainly 
will!"  cried  the  voice  again) — "  and  you  will  occupy  that  dis- 
tinct equality  of  position  which  will  entitle  you,  if  intellectu- 
ally gifted,  to  rank  with  all  the  male  geniuses  of  the  century! 
Freedom ! — that  should  be  woman's  watchword.  Freedom ! — 
entire  and  absolute !  Fight  for  it,  women !  Work  for  it — die 
for  it,  if  need  be — and  resist  to  the  last  gasp  the  treacherous 
enslavement  and  drudgery  called  Love  imposed  upon  you  by 
man !" 

With  this  rhodomontade  she  concluded,  rolled  up  her  manu- 
script, gave  it  a  thump,  and  bowed.  Of  course  the  audience 
applauded  her  to  the  echo,  so  great  was  their  good-nature  and 
sense  of  the  ridiculous ;  and  when  she  clapped  on  her  "  deer- 
stalker" and  marched  off  the  platform,  they  summoned  her 
back  again,  just  for  the  fun  of  seeing  her  lift  that  hat  of  hers 
in  airy  response  to  their  demonstrations.  The  reporters  on 
each  side  of  me  rose.  I  rose  also  and  groped  for  my  overcoat 
under  the  seat. 

"  She's  great  fun,"  said  the  man  with  the  beard  to  his  com- 
rade, yawning  capaciously;  "she's  going  to  the  States,  isn't 
she?" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  other;  "she'll  draw  there  and  no 
tnistake !" 


74  MY   WONDERFUL  WIFE! 

"  I  wonder,"  said  the  first  speaker  again,  musingly — "  I  won- 
der where  the  poor  devil  of  a  husband  is?" 

"  Far  enough  away,  I  should  think,"  returned  his  friend. 
"  These  sort  of  women  never  have  any  husbands — they  take 
'business  partners,'  don't  you  know — and  whenever  there's  a 
difference  of  opinion,  they  split!" 

Getting  their  coats  on  they  sauntered  down  the  hall,  grin- 
ning— I  following  them  with  dazed,  aching  eyes  and  burning 
brow.  I  glanced  back  once,  and  once  only,  at  the  now  vacant 
platform.  Ah!  you  may  wait,  Honoria — you  may  wait  as 
long  as  you  please,  expecting  to  see  me  come  to  you  and  make 
an  appointment  to  "  dine  at  the  Grosvenor,"  but  you  will  wait 
in  vain !  The  "  degradation"  of  a  husband  shall  never  afflict 
you  more;  the  "  contemptibility"  of  the  married  state  shall 
never  again  debar  you  from  the  enjoyment  of  your  masculine 
independence!  William  Hatwell-Tribkin  removes  himself 
from  your  path,  and  the  only  reminder  you  will  ever  have  of 
his  existence  is  your  allowance,  paid  quarterly,  through  your 
bankers,  with  unflinching  regularity  and  exactitude !  Thus  I 
mused,  as  I  mingled  with  the  crowd  pouring  itself  out  of 
Prince's  Ha-U,  and  heard  the  jeers  and  sneers  and  "  chaff" 
freely  bestowed  on  the  lady  lecturer  by  several  members  of 
her  late  audience. 

"  What  a  cure  she  looked !"  said  one  man,  as  he  elbowed 
himself  past  me. 

"What  a  fool  she  made  of  herself!"  remarked  another;  "I 
wonder  she  isn't  ashamed!" 

"  Ashamed !  My  dear  fellow,  don't  expect  ladies  in  trousers 
to  be  ashamed  of  anything!     Their  blushing  days  are  past!" 

After  hearing  this,  I  made  haste  to  pass  through  the  throng 
and  escape  into  the  open  air  as  speedily  as  possible,  for  though 
Honoria  might  not  be  able  to  blush,  /  blushed  for  her — 
blushed  so  painfully  that  I  felt  my  blood  tingling  to  the  very 
tips  of  my  ears.  To  be  compelled  to  listen  while  my  wife's 
name  was  bandied  about  from  one  to  the  other  with  careless 
jest  and  light  impertinence  was  exceedingly  bitter  to  me ;  and 
I  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief  when  I  found  myself  in  the  outer 
vestibule.  Here,  close  by  the  door,  were  two  individuals — 
young  men — one  apparently  propping  up  the  other,  who  was 
almost  in  a  dying  condition  of  laughter.  Laughing  so  much, 
indeed,  that  it  appeared  he  could  not  stop  himself,  and  again 
and  again  his  explosive  guffaws  broke  out,  till  he  laid  his  head 


MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE!  75 

feebly  back  against  the  wall  with  his  mouth  still  open,  and 
shutting  his  eyes,  pressed  one  hand  upon  his  side,  and  seemed 
about  to  slip  helplessly  on  the  gjound,  a  convulsed  prey  to 
excess  of  risibility.  His  companion  was  laughing  too,  but  less 
violently. 

"Come  home,  old  fellow!  I  say,  do  come  home,"  he  inv 
plored;  "don't  stand  grinning  there!  You'll  have  a  crowd 
round  you — come  on !" 

"  I  can't!"  gasped  the  hilarious  one;  "  I  shall  drop  down  on 
the  way !  Oh,  by  Jove !  Wasn't  it  just  rich!  The  comfort  of 
trousers!  Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha!  And  she  w^r^them!  Ha,  ha, 
ha!  That  was  the  best  of  it,  she  wore  them!  Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha, 
ha!" 

And  off  he  went  again  into  hysterical  spasms,  I  surveyed 
him  with  mild  wonder  and  scorn ;  it  was  rather  dark,  and  at 
first  I  could  not  distinguish  his  features  very  clearly,  especially 
in  their  contorted  condition ;  but  as  I  passed  out  into  Picca- 
dilly and  had  the  advantage  of  the  brilliant  light  over  the 
door-way  I  saw  and  recognized  him — recognized  him  with 
more  indignation  than  a  whole  dictionary  of  powerful  epithets 
could  express ,  it  was  that  horrid  "  Bobbie !"  Bobbie  with  the 
mustaches!  Wretch!  Not  "on  the  river"  this  time — not  in 
the  river,  where  in  that  first  savage  moment  I  would  have 
willingly  pitched  him!  He  had  actually  come  to  grin  at 
Honoria,  and  gloat  over  my  misery,  and  make  game,  in  his 
sublimely  idiotic  fashion,  of  the  whole  spectacle !  It  was  a 
wonder  I  did  not  knock  him  down  on  the  spot ;  but  he  did  not 
appear  to  see  me,  and  I  marched  haughtily  past  him  and  his 
noodle-looking  friend,  out  into  Piccadilly,  where  I  solemnly 
swore,  before  all  the  coming  and  going  omnibuses,  that  if  ever 
I  met  the  fellow  again  I  would  cut  him  dead !  Not  that  he 
would  mind  that  a  bit,  but  it  would  at  any  rate  be  some  slight 
satisfaction  to  my  deeply  wounded  feelings! 

And  now  there  remains  but  little  more  to  add  to  this  "  plain, 
unvarnished"  domestic  history.  With  that  night — that 
wretched  night — ended  all  the  hope  I  had  ever  entertained  of 
coming  to  a  better  and  happier  understanding  with  Honoria 
She  is  still  famed  for  her  masculine  prowess,  and  /,  in  conse- 
quence, am  still  a  lonely  man.  My  boy  goes  to  school  now — 
a  bright  little  chap,  who  up  to  the  present  has  never  seen  his 
mother  since  his  unreflective  infancy.  He  takes  his  holidays 
at  Richmoor  House,  in  Kent,  whither  I  accompany  him,  and  be- 


'J^  MY   WONDERFUL  WIFE! 

hold  in  little  Georgie  a  womanly  wife  who  knows  how  to  make 
her  husband  perfectly  happy.  But  all  the  same,  my  wife  is  no- 
torious, and  the  young  Countess  of  Richmoor  is  7iot.  Georgie 
never  gets  into  the  papers  at  all,  except  when  she  is  mentioned 
in  the  list  of  ladies  at  the  queen's  drawing-room ;  Honoria  is 
always  figuring  in  them,  in  season  and  out  of  season.  She  has 
lectured  in  America,  she  has  lectured  in  Australia;  she  has 
made  the  tour  of  all  the  world.  She  has  even  shot  tigers  in 
India;  and  during  a  visit  to  Turkey  took  to  the  real  origi- 
nal long  meerschaum  pipe,  concerning  the  delights  of  which 
she  wrote  an  elaborate  essay  in  one  of  the  "  sporting"  papers. 
And  here  I  may  as  well  mention  that  I  myself  am  no  longer  a 
lover  of  tobacco  in  any  shape  or  form.  My  marriage  with  a 
female  smoker  cured  me  of  that  vice — if  it  was  a  vice.  Any- 
how, I  am  positively  convinced  that  if  Honoria  had  not  learned 
how  to  smoke  from  that  Brighton  school  riding-master  (ac- 
cursed be  his  memory !)  she  would  scarcely  have  adopted,  one 
by  one,  as  she  did,  all  the  other  "  mannish"  habits  which  fol- 
lowed in  the  train  of  her  first  cigarette.  It  is  all  very  well  to 
tell  me  that  Spanish  women,  and  Russian  women,  and  Turkish 
women  smoke.  Let  them  do  so  if  they  like ;  they  are  nothing 
to  us,  nor  we  to  them;  but  for  Heaven's  sake  let  us  ward  off 
that  vulgarity  from  our  sweet,  fair  English  women,  who  are 
the  pride  of  our  country,  and  the  prettiest  and  freshest  to 
look  at  in  the  whole  world !  My  wife  is  now  an  incorrigible 
smoker;  I  believe  she  is  never  seen  without  a  cigar  in  her 
mouth ;  and  I  have  unfortunately  been  powerless  to  prevent 
it,  but  I  think — nay,  I  almost  venture  to  //^^/^— she  is  an  ex- 
ceptional sort  of  woman !  Old  and  intimate  friends,  when 
speaking  of  her  to  me,  always  say,  "  That  wonderful  wife  of 
yours !"  and  I  knoiv  she  is  wonderful ;  I  am  sure  she  is !  I 
admire  her  respectfully— //'^w  «  distance!  I  have  no  moral 
offences  to  charge  against  her ;  she  is  what  the  Americans  call 
"  square"  in  every  particular.  She  is  clever,  she  is  brilliant, 
she  is  daring,  and  though  she  is  now  getting  rather  coarse  in 
build,  she  is  still  handsome.  She  is  "  run  after"  by  a  certain 
portion  of  society,  and  adulated  by  a  certain  class  of  young 
men  (she  has  not  yet  got  her  way  about  men's  clothes,  and 
has  to  conform  to  the  "  barbaric"  usages  of  society  in  that  re- 
spect) ;  the  eyes  of  the  curious  public  are  fastened  upon  her 
wherever  she  appears,  and  she  enjoys  that  doubtful  celebrity 
which  attaches  to  people  who  are  always  pushing  themselves 


MY   WONDERFUL   WIFE!  'J'J 

to  the  front  without  any  tangible  claim  to  remarkable  merit. 
But — it  was  /  who  married  her ;  to  my  unhappy  lot  it  fell  to 
test  her  value  as  a  wife — her  tenderness  as  a  mother!  And 
as  the  melancholy  result  of  that  experience,  I  must  honestly 
declare  that,  wonderful  as  she  is,  and  wonderful  as  she  always 
will  be,  I  am  still  regretfully  compelled  to  acknowledge  that, 
notwithstanding  all  her  wonderfulness — and  in  spite  of  what- 
ever the  worshipful  "  Daily  Telegraph"  may  think  of  me — the 
deplorable  fact  remains — namely,  that  I — her  husband — can 
not  live  with  her  / 


THE  END. 


